


Unchained

by LightningStriking



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And Therefore Arrogant, Bucky Is Royalty, Eventual Smut, Gladiator Steve Rogers, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Realistic Historical Timeslines, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Steve Rogers, Pharaoh James "Bucky" Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Slavery, Slow Burn, but a good guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-09 04:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13473981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStriking/pseuds/LightningStriking
Summary: Growing up in ancient Rome where Omegas were nothing more than commodities, Stevanos was captured by the Empire and forced into slavery.  Where he became the greatest Omega Gladiator that the nation had ever seen.  However, rather than earning his freedom, this instead assured his place as part of an envoy sent to Egypt.  But he was not delivering fabulous gifts to the Pharaoh.  Instead, Stevanos was the gift.  A physically perfect specimen demonstrating the might of Rome, and a pawn that might garner Egypt's goodwill.Pharaoh Bakari, the most powerful man and Alpha in all of Egypt, had little time for offerings from a far off nation.  Yet when his eyes fell upon the gorgeous man whose golden hair brought to mind the great sun god Ra himself, Bakari found himself fascinated by the Omega who's body promised the greatest pleasure, and who's eyes promised swift death to any who dare touch him.Stevanos provides a challenge for a Pharaoh who has been denied nothing his entire life.  Bakari provides a temptation that might be too great to resist.  Caught in a web of desire where they are not simply Pharaoh and slave, or Alpha and Omega, but equals, can they both come out the other side whole?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovely readers!!! Welcome to this story of love and lust and intrigue, set against the opulent setting of ancient Egypt. I hope you enjoy this fanciful tale!
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: This story is NOT historically accurate. Rome was established in 753 BC, while the Gladiator games took place from 264 BC to 404 AD, the Coliseum itself not opening until 80 AD. Bucky is based roughly off Ramsesses II who ruled from 1279 BC to 1213 BC, during the 19th dynasty. So, clearly, these two eras are VASTLY separate. However, I am using a whole bunch of creative license with this story. While I intend to sprinkle in all sorts of accurate facts and locations, please note that most of this fic will be from the writer's imagination. Any inaccuracies are not intended to offend anyone.

Stepping forward on silent feet, the man’s head was bowed, eyes respectfully lowered. The posture was expected of an Omega, and more, of a slave. The first was a designation he’d held since birth. The second, a more recent affair. Though he was hard pressed to decide which condition was more perilous to his survival. More, hard pressed to decide which infuriated him further. And so, while he presented the perfect picture of obedience, it was nothing more than an act. A deliberate tactic to hide the fury he knew full well was visible in his eyes, if anyone had bothered themselves to look into them. Because while Stevanos may be full of a surging rage, his survival instincts were stronger.

            It was survival that had prompted him to move forward, when his mother had passed at such a young age, leaving him alone to the mercies of the often cruel world of Rome he had been born into. Grief had tempted him to simply give up, and take a place in the soil beside her. Yet she would not have wanted that for her only son, whom she had toiled so hard to provide the best life possible for – a task which had eventually cost his mother her own life. And so, with the memory of her strength in mind, to bolster him up and carry him forward, Stevanos had endured. Using wit and luck to survive the streets of Rome which were both beautiful, and unforgiving. Until he’d been captured, his Omega designation causing him to be legally enslaved by an empire that claimed possession of all unprotected Omegas. At which point, survival had become a renewed battle, infinitely more difficult that the simple struggle to earn enough to eat day to day.

            Forced into a state that was little more than servitude, no matter how the Romans might dress up their intentions by declaring their ownership as a rightful and just “protection” for Omegas who held no rights of their own, Stevanos had survived. He had, through a mixture of cunning and strength, avoided the fate that met so many of his fellow Omegas – just so much chattel sold off to the highest bidder, increasing the status of the purchaser, and the wealth of Rome all at once. For while _being_ an Omega almost inevitably resulted in a life of slavery, when they held no rights, no freedom, and no recourse, _possessing_ an Omega was highly desired. An Alpha with their own Omega was launched to the highest levels of society, while even Betas who had the riches to purchase their own were considered heads above the rest of their designation.

            Of course, not all Omegas were bought and sold. Many were married off in political or societal maneuvers made by their families, the mergers of blood lines brokered with the intention of power – the most valuable currency in Rome. Most rare of all, were the matches of love. Omegas marrying Alphas or even Betas, not with the intention of bettering anyone, but simply because of where their hearts led them. It was a practice looked down upon by the Empire who’s every action was used to garner more power, but still legally within the Omegas rights, so long as the head of their family consented.

            It was this sort of union Stevanos’ mother use to tell him about when he was young, hand gently stroking his hair as she promised someday the only person he would belong to was the person who won his heart. Yet with her death, so too had that dream died, and Stevanos had never known a single Omega who had been free to choose their destiny. Every one of his acquaintances were all simply pawns in the fierce battle for grandeur that was Roman life.

            Yet while being exchanged from hand to hand for money with no recourse was the typical fate of Omegas who had no family to protect them – or barter them – it was not the _only_ fate. Another destiny had arisen, a true demonstration of Rome’s wealth, and passion for entertainment, the more vicious the better. What better way to displays Rome’s prosperity than to sacrifice Omegas, a highly valuable commodity, within the sort of games that had become so popular? The very idea of the designation defined by their “weakness”, their delicacy, their reputed inability to make rational decisions of their own, being used in the gladiatorial games caught on with the rapidity of a raging fire.

            The citizens of Rome had looked on with rapt fascination as Omegas were coerced to fight, on the one hand both amused and distressed at the weakest of their ranks who could provide little sport, yet provided much awe at such precious property being sacrificed with such reckless abandon. Clearly the empire was rich beyond measure to throw away Omegas with such a disdainful disregard, and the wasteful extravagance of it gratified the masses. Above all, it was a satisfying reaffirmation that Omegas were meant to be ruled, when they could do so little to defend themselves.

            On the other hand, there was the struggle to know how to react when there were some Omegas who were not so easily crushed. A group of them fought back, with a bravery and skill equal to any Alpha. Their very success was an affront to the Empire that had forced them into such battles, when they had been meant to be sacrificed with ease. But… did their very triumph not also prove Rome’s might? That it could produce such exquisitely skilled Omegas, the like of which the world had never seen?

            The success of these Omegas was both a blessing and a curse. They were spared the fate of being sold to the highest bidder, when they were infinitely more valuable in the arena, drawing in crowds who filled the stands and Rome’s coffers. But instead, their life would eventually, inevitably, end in battle. No one could win forever. Among them, Stevanos was the most skilled of all. The man who had been taken by the Empire at a young enough age no one had cared to purchase him, so instead he’d been sent to the arena. His swiftness and cunning had carried him through his first battle. And then the next. And the next after that, the years passing adding muscle to his physic, wisdom to his heart – and an unabated anger in his soul.

            Now though, he was far away from the crush of the arena, and the opulence of power hungry Rome. Instead, he was in Egypt. A nearly mythical place, tales of which had reached even the imprisoned Omegas. The riches here were both exotic and decadent, the nation one Rome desperately desired to acquire, the need to conquer a trait Stevanos’ home nation displayed in spades. Yet as cruel and power hungry as Rome may be, they were not blind with blood lust. The Emperor knew it was far better to buy compliance, then command it with a show of force that could be vastly more costly. Why waste the resources of countless legions, when instead a small envoy bearing gifts and treasure the likes of which might please even a Pharaoh could work just as well?

            And so the Emperor, whose ever greedy gaze had descended upon the glory of Egypt and craved it, put together an emissary. The royal group were sent to bear gifts demonstrating Rome’s own glory, treasures of art and jewelry, garments and exotic animals. And most important of all, an Omega. _The_ Omega who had brought himself the most status and triumph any Omega could achieve through their own devices. No gift could be greater. Nothing could infuriate Stevanos more. Because after a life of battle and bloodshed, doing all within his power to avoid the fate of being sold off, he’d befallen even more insulting a fate. He was being _given_ away. To a Pharaoh. His life considered to be worth nothing more than the favor he might gain on the Roman Empire’s behalf.

            Stevanos, who’d known nothing but cruelty at Rome’s hands, held no allegiance to the nation. He was fiercely glad to be free of the country he never wished to see again. And he had no intention of representing them well. A Pharaoh’s gift he may be, but Stevanos was not considered the most cunning of the Omega fighters for nothing. When the opportunity arose, he would make his escape, and disappear into this land far from the Emperor’s reach. No man, Roman or Egyptian, would own him ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for chapter 2!

Glittering eyes a blue shade as mutable as the Nile, ever changing and all powerful, skimmed over the shimmering view of the river. The gaze was every bit as arresting as the water it drank in which flowed within its bank with a misleading calmness, belying the incredible force it contained. Body leaning against the balcony high in the palace, skin basking in the breeze that rustled the fronds of the palms and carried the heady scent of countless flowers, the man felt compelled towards the force of nature, the essence within him called by its immeasurable strength. The water was the source of all life along the river banks, and irresistible to a man every bit as powerful – a God made mortal. Pharaoh.

            Gazing over the small slice of the vast kingdom he both protected and possessed, he was secure in the knowledge that for this small slice of time at least, all was well. Until keen senses alerted him to the undeniable scent of danger, the barest instant before a blade touched his throat.

            “Pharaoh caught off guard? This is precisely how dynasties fall.” The voice was cool, controlled, deadly lethal. And smugly amused.

            Heedless of the viciously sharp edge of metal, Bakari turned, lifting a brow as the blade pressed closer before falling away, the diminutive woman before him flipping the knife with a casual skill few could hope to attain, then sheathed it in a holster at her thigh. “If I’d detected you sooner, you wouldn’t be capable of doing your job, now would you, Nathifa?” he replied, the power in his silkily smooth voice immeasurable. Pharaoh and Alpha – the combination was one so powerful it could only be bestowed by the Gods, onto a man destined to take his place among them in the heavens. And it rolled right off her with no effect.

            Smirk broadening into a grin, Nathifa grinned up at him, punching his arm affectionately with a blow that would have leveled a lesser man. A blow which bestowed by any other would automatically sentence that foolish, blasphemous individual to death. Now however, it simply garnered an eye roll.

            “You aren’t wrong about that.” As vizier, second to Pharaoh, Nathifa was in a unique position that granted her near unlimited power. It was a power her lethal skill and blade sharp intelligence had earned, her position one that no other in the land had the dominance or cunning ability to threaten. Yet it was not her position as his most trusted advisor that let the executionable offense pass. It was instead Nathifa’s status as his sister that made Bakari immune to such indignities, the type of which she’d inflicted on her brother the entirety of her life, and would continue to until he took his place among the stars, he was certain.

            “Seriously though, I think you simply enjoy ruining the guards’ day,” Bakari added dryly, when as though on cue, a Medjay appeared on the balcony, the scowl upon the royal guard’s face impressive.

            “Vizier. I was not expecting your presence in Pharaoh’s chambers tonight,” Clinthamun spoke. The words were deferential, full of the respect both Nathifa’s official position and familial relation to Bakari deserved. The tone however, was naked aggravation.

            Turning back to the railing to hide his smile, knowing the ritual was simply a game Nathifa liked to play, Bakari chose not to comment. After all, Nat played with very few. That the archer who was not only Bakari’s most trusted Medjay, but also as a man invaluable in battle, had engaged Nat’s interest was not something Bakari had any wish to interfere in. Nathifa would play her games, and he knew full well, Clinthamun would likely end up blissfully happy when this teasing dance finally reached its inevitable conclusion. If his mischievous sister didn’t murder the man with annoyance first.

            Leaning up against Bakari’s side companionably, after trading verbal barbs with the guard until he stalked back to his post, Nathifa drank in the same view in silence for long moments. The city glittered along the banks of the Nile like a jewel, growing like the most fertile of blooms, enjoying a prosperity brought by Bakari’s reign that few Pharaohs before had matched.

            Content to let the silence stretch, Bakari sighed with a pleasure at the moment of peace, carved out after a long day of meeting with both priests and military advisors, his position as ruler endowing him with the divine responsibility of leading his nation in both aspects. Yet he felt no displeasure when Nathifa broke the stillness of the rapidly darkening night. “It really is a beautiful kingdom,” she murmured, voice absent of sly teasing for once.

            Glancing at his sister once more, Bakari’s eyes narrowed in consideration. “One you wished was yours?” he wondered, the question one he’d contemplated more than once in their lifetime. Raised close by their father’s side, both had been raised in a manner befitting a future Pharaoh, their education extensive. The two had learned diplomatic negotiation at an early age, even as they were being taught the deadly arts of battle. Both traits necessary when it came to ruling a vast and often volatile territory.

            By his father’s command, Bakari had inherited the throne when his father had unexpectedly, though peacefully passed away. As an Alpha every bit as strong as he, Nathifa _could_ just as easily have been the one chosen to rule, commanding the populace with the same strength Bakari possessed.

            Meeting his gaze, she seemed genuinely surprised by the question, though her answer was as immediate as it was genuine. “No. I have no desire to sit upon the throne. And we both know I’m not suited for it. What I do, is better done from the side. Father understood that as well.” Her words were neither humble nor conceited – Nathifa simply spoke the truth. The siblings were equally strong, and equally deadly. Yet while Bakari was a fist, powerful and bold, a blatant statement of force, Nathifa was a knife. Silent and deadly, she had used her cunningness to do away with more than one threat to both the royal family, and the nation. No, she was not suited to the bright light shown upon the throne, instead working best from the shadows. And Bakari thanked the gods that a woman and Alpha so powerful gave her loyalty to him.

            “You’re not wrong,” he agreed once more, teasingly tugging on a lock of her flame red hair. The shade was a known gift of Set, the god known for wind, chaos and confusion. It was a blessing for all who engaged in warfare. It was a gift Nathifa used mercilessly.

            “Of course. I’m never wrong,” she agreed with the inherent royal arrogance they shared. “And consider that when I tell you, these emissaries on their way from Heracleion? Diplomatic peace is the last thing on their mind.”

            Nearly growling at the unwelcome reminder, Bakari’s gaze darkened, echoing the waters inky surface as night deepened. The very waters the emissaries his sister spoke of were traversing now.

            Word had come to the palace the day prior, of a large and slow moving Roman entourage having crossed the sea, landing at the port city of Heracleion before beginning their crawling journey down the Nile’s winding curves. Their progress was hampered, according to all the accounts that had reached Bakari, by the number of men as well as the excess of cargo they brought with them. Gifts, no doubt, destined for the palace, and Bakari himself. A profusion of treasures, surely intended to win Bakari’s favor. Yet Bakari was no fool, nor so easily swayed.

            He’d watched with a narrowed gaze, listened with care for years now to the reports of the Romans across the sea, who were every bit as relentless in their pursuit of a larger and greater empire, as Bakari was in protecting his own. He knew full well the appeal Egypt must hold. And he knew the situation was one he must handle carefully. Bakari had no desire to squander his resources by holding off a hostile invasion. However, if the Emperor though him foolishly easy to distract then supplant with pretty words and pretty trinkets alone, Bakari would not hesitate to correct him with the most brutal of responses.

            “Trust me. There is nothing they could offer me that would blind my eyes to their true motives. And likely, nothing they could bring I haven’t seen before.”

            Laughing aloud at the arrogance of his statement, Nat rolled her own eyes at him. “Be careful, with words like that, you’re practically challenging the gods to prove you wrong.”

            Bakari chuckled, even as he in no way rescinded his statement. “Come. That’s a problem for tomorrow. For now, let us eat. _Dinner_ ,” he added dryly when they walked inside, towards the dining hall, and Nat took the opportunity to devour Clinthamun with her eyes once more.

            Jabbing him with a lethal elbow, Nat snorted inelegantly. “Really Bakari, you could do with a little _dessert_ yourself,” she retorted, observing as always the reverent and lustful eyes that followed Pharaoh’s progress through the palace, her brother as obtuse to the attention as ever.

            Bakari merely smiled, shaking his head. He’d leave the games and seductive intrigues to Nat. As for him, his attention was devoted to maintaining the peace of his nation. He was certain there was nothing that could be brought before him tomorrow that would shake that decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little does Bakari know... ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit of non-English in here is Arabic, compliments of Google Translate. Unfortunately I don't have an English to Ancient Egyptian translation book. *sigh* That said, if Google Translate led me astray, please feel free to let me know, and I'll fix the error :)

Leaning against the railing of the river boat, Stevanos breathed deep, and simply stared. So engrossed was he in the glittering display before him, that for once the shackles weighing so heavily around his wrists, against his ankles, and on his heart, were forgotten. Though padded and velvet lined to ensure no damage came to the goods, and for the last twenty years that’s all he’d been – a commodity – the burden of them had sat heavily upon his soul since departing Rome. In the Colosseum, there had been the barest sliver of freedom. The Omegas had been free to mingle in the underground chambers that were their home and their prison. Not out of any kindness on their captors behalf, but rather quite the opposite.

            Few things entertained the blood thirsty populous more than Omegas who clearly cared for one another being forced to end those bonds by ending each other’s lives. Just one of the many reasons Stevanos had kept to himself. But even as a loner, he’d been free to move about in their large cells, the dining hall, the training courtyards, and of course, the arena itself. The indignity of chains was one he had not borne since he’d first been captured.

            There was no questioning the wisdom of the entourage in keeping him bound though. Though the blackened eye and bruised jaw Stevanos had inflicted on Varo had long since faded, the man had continued to glare daggers at him all through the length of their journey. Stevanos couldn’t be bothered to care. He hadn’t precisely taken well to being informed he was being given away like a token party favor, and Varo had smirked while delivering the news. So far as Stevanos was concerned, the man deserved more than the few bruises he’d received, but unfortunately, Stevanos knew better than to outright kill an emissary of the Emperor. Not if he intended to live. His long ago promise to his mother’s memory, to survive, had stayed his hand. And Varo’s knowledge that a damaged gift was no gift at all, had stayed his own hand from retaliation. None the less, the abrasive tension between them remained, the other man constantly checking that the shackles around Stevanos’ limbs remained tight, proving he wasn’t entirely without wit.

            Now though – staring at a sight which had no comparison, Stevanos was far away from the heavy metal holding him, the physical reminder of how Rome even now held him captive. Far away from the nation that had made his life a living hell. While this new land might well do the same, to his wide staring eyes, it looked like the lushest of paradises.

            Sitting against the wide, flowing curves of the Nile, the city seemed to grow from the desert itself. Buildings rose from the ground, constructed of bricks and stones the same shade as the sand that stretched as far as the eye could see. Yet here on the banks, it was not sand that dominated, but green fertile life. Palms reached towards the sky, their height matched only by the incredible sculptures that seemed as much as city as the buildings themselves. A tall, narrow stone column seemed to touch the very sun itself, and beyond the boundaries of the city, Stevanos could make out the incredible sight of the pyramids themselves. Unbelievable structures whose existence had reached even the Omegas in the ring, Rome so impressed by the feat of engineering the structures must have required, eons past. Gazing at the smooth, graceful sides glimmering in the sun like diamonds strewn across the sand, Stevanos wondered at them, and how vast they must be from up close.

            Pulled from his marveling by the sounds of shouts behind him, Stevanos’ shoulders tightened at the shove from behind, enough to send him stumbling without doing any harm. Turning, he glared down at Varo, who sneered right back. “Time to go, Omega. Off to the Pharaoh who will finally use you for the whore all Omegas are.” Muscle tensing hard enough to hurt, Stevanos clenched his jaw, refusing to reply. Refusing to acknowledge just how much the prospect both enraged and deeply terrified him. To be touched that way – to be forced… He would take a death in the arena a thousand times over.

            “Heathens and savages, the lot of them,” Varo spat, eyes skimming dismissively over the very city Stevanos had drank in with such wonder. “Imagine he’ll fuck you like the savage animal he is. And I bet you’ll like it, like the bitch you are.”

            Oh, it would be so simple to kill him. A simple wrench of his head in Stevanos’ strong hands, effortlessly breaking that neck. Chains slowly tightening around his throat, turning him a vivid shade of purple as the life was squeezed out of him. Or simply throwing the man overboard, Varo’s inability to swim a well-known fact he’d bemoaned the entire trip.

            Only just restraining himself, Stevanos reminded himself of his goal to escape. A goal no temporary satisfaction of vengeance could replace. And, he mused darkly, if the gods who had never once smiled upon him had any sense of justice at all, the envoy’s ship would sink to the bottom of the ocean on the way back to Rome. Ignoring the man, Stevanos moved forward, ready to be gone from the horrid Beta if nothing else. Ready to step into his future, whatever that might hold.

 

 

With each step further into the city, Stevanos felt himself falling further in love. The opulence and excess of Rome had never appealed to him, but the artistic beauty that engulfed this land – he felt drunk on it.

            Stone coaxed into the most graceful or foreboding of statues lined the road to the palace, incredible creatures that were half man, half animal. Completely foreign and entirely fascinating. Carvings which he assumed to be writing, had been faithfully etched into practically every surface he saw, figures and shapes telling a story he might never know. Breathing deep the gorgeous fragrance of flowers, foreign and delicious, Stevanos was too full of wonder to even feel hesitation when the slow moving group, encumbered as they were with gifts, were allowed first within the boundary walls circling the palace, then the royal receiving building itself. Then Stevanos nearly stumbled when his awe was felt a hundred fold, _inside_ the walls.

            Flinching at the air that felt nearly cold after the unrelenting heat of the sun, Stevanos blinked in the flickering light of oil lamps, casting shivering shadows over the gloriously colorful and complex tapestries hung upon the walls. The walls themselves were painted, the color reflecting on the stone floor that muffled their footsteps. Sound oddly muted, Stevanos at last experienced the first prickling of unease, feeling as though he’d descended into a realm that was not of this world at all. The sensation only grew as his equally silent countrymen were wordlessly ushered, into a long hall, lined again with statues, and also with a watching crowd even more fantastic in appearance than their stone counterparts.

            Men naked from the waist up, the lot of them wore fine white cloth around their hips. That’s where the simplicity ended, their skin shimmering in gold. Eyes dramatically lined in black, it made their gazes feel all the more piercing as they watched the Roman group move forward, suddenly bedraggled in comparison. Sleek, shoulder length hair was adorned by gold pieces, as were their wrists, their throats, their ears. The women were dripping in jewelry, the precious stones and metal adorning them enough to make Stevanos’ Rome weary eyes widen. These Egyptians were beautiful. And to Stevanos’ battle trained eyes, every one of them looked deadly.

            Breathing deep, Stevanos flickered his eyes back to the floor, using the moment the subservient gesture granted him to gather himself. Before he nearly swayed at the scent that filled his lungs.

            It wasn’t the flowers that had been nearly overpowering outside. Nor the wet taste of the Nile that had flowed over them on the breeze. Not sand, or scented oil that filled the room. But instead an aroma so unique, so enticing, that Stevanos was compelled to look up once more. To discern the origin of this one scent that made every cell within him feel _alive_ , as it never had before. Glancing quickly around, his eyes landed upon an exquisite face that could well have been carved of marble by the most adoring sculptor. Fine features, fire red hair, and eyes that would have been piercing even without the dramatic eye makeup. Lungs drawing deep, and no – she smelled of death and power and sensual grace. But the scent did not come from her.

            Falling still when the chains holding his wrists behind him were viciously yanked, Stevanos make no protest when his knees were prodded from behind, instinctively buckling, though they screamed with pain when he hit the stone floor. Still feeling too stunned to consider fighting back, Stevanos blinked the spots of agony from his vision, before seeing the legs of someone sitting in a golden intricately carved throne shift, then stand. Despite knowing that this must be him, must be Pharaoh, the one who now held Stevanos’ life in his hands, until Stevanos could make a bid for freedom and at last, claim his life as his own, Stevanos could no more help his eyes from lifting than he could stop his own heart beating.

            Up, his gaze traced, from elegantly sandal clad feet, thickly muscled legs, narrow hips, a powerful chest that shouted of strength, into the face of Pharaoh. The face of a god on earth. Lips parting helplessly, Stevanos stared up at the face that was perfection. If the city had been the gates to paradise, then surely this was the face of its creator, all powerful and flawless. The strength of the jaw, the perfectly sculpted mouth, the intense eyes staring back at him with a focus Stevanos had never experienced before.

            Stevanos distantly considered that this nation’s religion which his countrymen had labeled as heathen must in fact be right – because only a god could account for such literal perfection. And Stevanos realized in that instant, _this_ is where the scent had come from. The scent that at had his lungs heaving to draw more of that intoxicating aroma into his lungs, as his body nearly shuddered in pleasure from it. His skin felt as though flames were painlessly flicking over him, burning alive with a want Stevanos had never before known, never imagined could exist. The scent of sun and heat and power and _Alpha_ – it was Pharaoh.

            Too stunned to move when a graceful hand lowered to cup Stevanos face, he couldn’t be certain if he’d had the ability, whether he’d have jerked back, or leaned into the touch that seemed to burn like fire. The flames flickering over his skin turned into an inferno. As it was, Stevanos simply knelt frozen as still as the statues that dominated the room, shock holding him in the subservient position as nothing else could have.

            “Alkhasu bi,” Pharaoh spoke, his deep voice washing over Stevanos like waves - and oh, Stevanos could drown in the depths of that erotic sound - eyes still locked on Stevanos. As though the rest of the entourage did not exist. As though the rest of the _world_ did not exist. When there was no comprehension on Stevanos features, those eyes narrowed. Silky smooth tone firmer when he spoke again, holding the weight of royalty and Alpha in one.

            “Mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww yissss. Stevanos is completely blown away by Bakari. As well he should be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now... for Pharaoh's perspective. Enjoy!

Bakari had always known his fate. Known that when the time came to pass, he would take his place among the stars, like all Pharaoh who had come before him. Known that time would stretch out into an eternity within the paradise of the field of reeds. Known that time itself would become meaningless, with infinity a never ending horizon before him.

            All these things Bakari knew. What Bakari had never known was that it was possible, here in the mortal realm, for time itself to stand still. But in this frozen moment in time, it did. Because _he_ was here.

            Bakari had watched the Roman group approach, eyes narrowed as he took in the vast array of gifts they bore. Enough to make even a Pharaoh take note. It was an opulent presentations of offerings – much more than a simple peaceful emissary with nothing more than a demonstration of goodwill in mind could warrant. The politician in Bakari saw it for the deceptive ruse it was, meant to lull him into a pleased acceptance of the foreigners’ presence. All the better to try to oust him from his throne. The ruler in Bakari knew no display of riches could blind him to their true intentions, or sway him from the tight grip he held upon his nation.

            Bakari was tempted to dismiss them at once, to send away the sly threat until they were far from his land. But then – then the scent rolled over Bakari, a wave that besieged him, surrounded him, engulfed him. Like the floods of the Nile that faithfully rolled over the land, it was not a wave that drowned, but rather a tide that delivered life. And Bakari felt so very much alive.

            Breathing deep of the scent, headier and more intoxicating that the strongest of wines, Bakari’s gaze pierced through the group of men, cataloging and dismissing each instantly, until they parted and one alone moved forward, and fell to this knees. And there, _there_ he was. The source of the aroma which flowed into Bakari, filling him like the strongest ka imaginable – the life giving force – which Bakari had ever been blessed by the gods to experience.  

            The honey sweetness of Omega coated Bakari, until he nearly felt he could lick his lips and taste the deliciousness flavor of it. It was punctuated by an unexpected sharpness and power that was unmistakable. The mouthwatering bite of luscious fruit, the quenching tang of water - the man’s scent was life itself. An all-encompassing aroma worthy not only of the most desirable Omega Bakari had ever seen, but worthy of the warrior the man clearly was, his heavily muscled physique and silk smooth movements painting a vivid picture of his skill. It was a scent Bakari from this instant forth could recognize among a thousand others, a million even. One twined with his own existence.

            Eyes drinking in the sight of him, Bakari felt his heart thundering, blood surging in a violent praise for the gift bestowed not by the Roman men before him, but the gods who had smiled upon him. His one. The one Bakari had waited for not only his entire reign, but his entire life.

            As with all other Pharaoh, Bakari had been prompted to take husbands and wives early, to consummate those unions, to create new life that would carry on his line. Yet even in his youth, his first rut upon him, Bakari had felt the influence of the gods in his life, and known he’d been destined for greatness. Fated to usher in a time of security and prosperity for the nation he loved as much as he treasured his own life. To do so, Bakari was certain he would need his true mate by his side, as he had been told in a dream by Horus himself. An equal in spirit and soul, the one individual sculpted by the gods to accompany Bakari through this life, and join him eternally in death. The likes of which Bakari had never met in the elite of his kingdom, or in the hall of his royal harem. So he’d waited.

            It had caused a stir, Bakari’s departure from tradition. It had caused talk that such a virile Alpha so rarely partook of the comforts offered by the men and women who existed only to satisfy his every need. Yet when Bakari continued to achieve the greatness the gods had foretold, no one questioned his ways, as unusual as they may be.

            Taking in the man whose arrival had ended that eternal wait, Bakari drank in every detail. While Bakari’s eyes were a shifting blue gray like the Nile which ran through the land and brought it life, the man’s blue gaze was akin to the sky itself, the crowning glory hanging above the kingdom. His hair, such a brilliant golden, was like both the precious metal and the sun god Ra himself. This man was the sky. A fitting mate for Bakari, whose strength was as constant as the land.

            Reaching out towards him, the compulsion irresistible, Bakari ignored the slight gasp that ringed the room at the motion. He focused instead on the silky smooth feel of skin over the firm angle of the man’s jaw. Enticement personified. That audible reaction was no comparison to the palpable shock that ran through the hall when Bakari spoke aloud, gaze locked onto his destined mate. “Mine,” he decreed. Both an acknowledgement of what his soul instantly recognized, as well as a public claiming to all present. The kind which he’d never made before.

            Disregarding the subtle shifting of Nathifa beside him, Bakari’s gaze stayed locked on the man who was staring up at him with both awe and confusion shining in those sky eyes. Seeing no comprehension, Bakari reiterated in the universal tongue, “Mine.” The word felt more right when each repetition.

            Rather than echoing the promise, the man jerked in Bakari’s hands, as though a shock had run through him. Bakari felt a shock himself when those sky eyes lit with fire, fury radiating suddenly and stunningly from those gorgeous features. Before Bakari could attempt to unravel the mystery of the man’s reaction, when this was clearly the most joyous of moments, the clink of rattling metal resulting from the man’s movement caught Bakari’s attention. Focus drawn to the chains containing the man before him, Bakari growled. The rage emanating from him caused his witnesses to gasp louder yet, taking a visible step back. Bakari ignored them all, focused only upon the blasphemy before him. His mate was no slave.

            “Why is he chained?” Bakari demanded. His eyes did not lift, even as he waited through a pause where an acceptable answer was clearly contemplated by the obviously confused Roman group. Finally an uncertain yet somehow belligerent voice replied.

            “To keep him safe.” Seeing the way his future mate jerked at the voice which spoke up, rough and uncultured, Bakari felt his rage deepen. To keep him _enslaved_ , Bakari translated. Given the way the golden haired man physically flinched, clearly the speaker had not been a kind captor.

            No more. “With me, he shall be safe. No harm will come to him. Release him now.”

            When the speaker moved forward, reluctance evident, every muscle in the golden haired man’s body tensed, clearly beating back the instinct to fight, or to flee. Heart aching at the visible sign of what his future mate must have endured, Bakari kept their gaze locked together, an assurance that all would be well. Even despite his obvious rage, the man maintained the contact just as tightly.

            Muscle slumping the instant the metal was unlocked from his ankles and chains, the man blinked when Bakari gently drew him to his feet, hand sliding from that exquisite face to rest over the heart that beat rapidly in that broad chest. Fury having melted once more into confusion. It was a state Bakari could accept, when all would be made clear soon. But first, he wanted his man far removed from these men who had dare treat him like the lowliest animal.

            At last looking away, Bakari turned to meet Nathifa’s gaze, noting her arched brow, and expression of disbelief. Yet when he quietly spoke to her, she did not resist his instructions. Rising to her feet, she beckoned the man along with her. Hesitantly he followed, though he cast one last, lingering stare of bewilderment Bakari’s way before silently exiting the room.

            Exhaling, attention no longer divided, Bakari turned back to the assembly, the full force of his Alpha gaze falling upon them. Noting the way they all minutely shifted back, a humorless smile curved his lips. They were afraid. As well they should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw yis, Bakari knows Steve is his! But for Steve, clearly that statement didn't go over well... whatever shall happen next??
> 
> The reception to this story has absolutely blown me away, thank you all so much for the kudos, and truly wonderful comments! I love to get them, so please know how much even a word or two means to me, lovely readers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but out the very next day! Enjoy ^_^

Trailing behind the small, lithe Alpha that had gestured him forward, Stevanos felt as though he was following Morta, the Roman goddess of death herself. Never before had someone exuded such lethal power, the feel of it a blade slicing against his senses. Trailing her, he couldn’t help but wondering if she was leading him to his own end, certain that his not inconsiderable skills would amount to nothing against such refined power. And yet… Pharaoh had said he would be safe.

            Forcing one foot in front of the other, Stevanos stayed silent, while his mind was a hurricane. It was a though the entire world had slid sideways, and he was struggling to cling on to something he couldn’t begin to understand.

            Stevanos had accepted his fate – a gift, which meant a slave, for the ruler of Egypt. After all, it was a fate that would only be his until he could make his ultimate escape, a feat that he was confident would be simpler here than in the gladiator arena, in the middle of densely populated Rome, where his own fame prevented his disappearance. Stevanos widely known face was one he could not hide. Yet here, in a land that called to him in ways he’d never before known, he was no one. He could disappear.

            And then… Then it was as though Jupiter had struck Stevanos from the skies with lightning, the shock running through him extreme, yet painless. Stevanos had never imagined it was possible to react to someone so intensely. As though this man was designed perfectly to awaken Stevanos’ every sense. Or perhaps Stevanos had been designed for _him_.

            The stunning impact had left Stevanos reeling, and unable to resist when Pharaoh had reached out and touched him. The sensation only added to the layers of confusion and disbelief and _need_ such as he had never known. In that instant, Stevanos, who had spent a lifetime avoiding all contact save the deadly blows he delivered in the arena, who despised the Alphas who had made his life a never ending existence of isolation and fury, would gladly have bowed before this man. Would have done anything to feel that touch that lit fire beneath his skin, after a lifetime where any touch equaled pain.

            Even now, thinking of it, flames simmered through his veins while his stomach rolled, disgusted with his own weakness. Stevanos could not being to explain his violent response to the man, yet to have in that moment given in so completely… it shamed and infuriated him to the core. Stevanos had never given in to anyone before. Least of all someone who presumed to own him. As Pharaoh so clearly did.

            _Mine_. Even as the memory of that hypnotizing voice echoed through him, burning the flames of want all the higher, Stevanos felt his rage burn just as hot. _Mine_ , as though Stevanos was nothing more than an object. A possession. Stevanos had known full well the Romans saw him as nothing more. He’d been certain the Egyptians would feel no differently. Yet this _man_ who he’d reacted to so strongly – in his stunned mind, Stevanos might have dared to think someone saw him as something more.

            With one word, Pharaoh had sent Stevanos tumbling back to reality, the landing brutal. Of course, a man who ruled all would see Stevanos as less than nothing. Even as the rage, insult, and beneath that all a sense of hurt Stevanos didn’t even acknowledge to himself, roiled through him, Stevanos knew he should be grateful for it. He should be thinking of nothing but escape. Rather than dreaming of pushing into an embrace with a man whose very touch would equal a cage.

            Starting when the tiny redhead he followed finally came to a stop, before gesturing him through a doorway with an expression that seemed both amused and speculative, Stevanos hesitantly stepped in. He was uncertain what to anticipate in a land that had destroyed any expectations he’d had thus far. A cell? A torture chamber? A room of monsters that would consume him alive?

 _Pharaoh promised I’d be safe_. Shoving aside the quiet whisper inside of him with annoyance, unwilling to trust the word of anyone, much less an Alpha, much less a _ruler_ , Stevanos let his irritation carry him into the chamber. Which once again blew away any expectation he might have held.

            The room was beautiful. Countless flickering lamps lit up the space, the brightly painted walls adorned with more tapestries, the weave fine and intricate. Gorgeously carved furniture filled the chamber, not least of all a bed laden with impossibly soft appearing blankets and pillows. The decadence of it was beyond anything Stevanos could have imagined existed. Clearly this room was no cell. Just as clearly, it could _not_ be meant for him.

            Tempted to turn back, and ask the redhead if she had made a mistake, Stevanos quashed the urge. She didn’t seem the type to make mistakes, or admit to them, and Stevanos had no wish to draw any more attention to himself than had already been done. He was nothing. He had to _be_ nothing in order to escape. So he held his silence when she closed the door behind him, leaving him alone to his turmoil of thoughts.

            Drawn irresistibly to the open balcony that beckoned, Stevanos sucked in a breath at the view spread out before him like the most exquisite tapestry come to life. From the palace’s vantage point, placed above the sprawl of the city, Stevanos could make out the shine of the Nile. The sun’s setting rays turned it into a river of fire, the golds and scarlets of the evening sky making the heavens appear to be aflame. Below it all, warm spots of light shown bright among the houses, the wind whispering a song through the trees.

            Leaning against the wall encircling the balcony, Stevanos felt muscles tight with confusion slowly relax. Perhaps he would not be here for long. Perhaps he might be killed this very night, for all he could say. But right now, in this moment, Stevanos felt for the first time like he _belonged_. Even as he recognized it for an illusion, because he was a man who had never belonged anywhere, he didn’t fight away the sensation. If Stevanos lived to see tomorrow, he would pick up both the sword he used to keep the world at bay, and the shield he hefted to protect himself. But for now, he would simply be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly a misunderstanding of intention between these two men! But when they can finally talk alone, will them come to understand one another? Stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER POSTED TODAY! If you have not read the previous one, released today, please go back a chapter!
> 
> That said, whaaaa?? Two chapters in one day?? This is what happens when I stay home sick. *fantasizes about staying home every day* But the muses were shouting in my ear, and so here we go. Please enjoy chapter six!

Steps quick, Bakari hurried towards his royal residence, excitement making him nearly jog in his haste. Being away from _him_ had been torturous. Knowing he’d been safely ensconced in Bakari’s own room had been sheer pleasure, providing an oasis of protection for the man who visibly hadn’t experienced that before. But not being there _with_ him, had been terrible. Bakari wanted to learn every single thing about this man who his entire soul recognized, not least of all his name. He’d refused to ask the Romans though, not wanting them to touch his future mate, even simply with their words. So as impatient as Bakari had been, removing the threat was even more important. And Bakari had done exactly that.

            In no uncertain terms, he had let the Roman emissaries know that their presence was not, nor would ever be, welcome in his land. It had been a bold move, one the diplomatic ruler inside him, and his advisors beside him, had known wasn’t the wisest. T’Challa, his chief advisor, had muttered more than one pithy word in response, making his position eminently clear. Yet the protective instinct within Bakari was violent, and had accepted nothing less than clearly worded banishment.

            The base desire to simply do away with them all in the most final of fashions, and oh it would have been so easy, had at least been reigned in. After all, that would have been seen as nothing less than a declaration of war. And while sending the emissaries away in the blunt manner he had might well result in a battle regardless, Bakari would accept the result of his actions. Nothing mattered. Other than him.

            Nodding at Clinthamun who stood his post outside the room, Bakari ignored the slight smirk that played over the other man’s lips. Nathifa had no doubt updated the guard on Bakari’s actions. Bakari couldn’t care less. The quicker the knowledge of his claim spread, the better. “No interruptions,” he commanded, watching as Clinthamun nodded in instant understanding. Tease though the sandy haired man might, Bakari trusted him to keep his mate to be safe.

            Order given, Bakari slipped into his room on silent feet, having no desire to alarm the other man. At once, he was nearly overwhelmed by the perfection of the man’s scent, all the more enticing as it was mingled with Bakari’s own aroma that blanketed the room. Moving forward quietly, Bakari’s eyes drank in the sight of the man, standing on the balcony and staring up at the giant moon that bathed him in its glimmering light.

            “Hello.”

            Jolting in surprise, the man turned, arm lifting in instinctive defense. Though, Bakari was pleased to note, he lowered in quickly. A sign perhaps, that he didn’t see Bakari as a threat? Bakari hoped that was the case, and smiled gently, wishing only to put the other man at ease. It was surely no easy thing to learn you’re destined for a Pharaoh.

            His smile wasn’t returned, but neither did the man give ground when Bakari cautiously drifted closer. Perhaps he was still worried about those who had brought him here? “I want you to know, I’ve sent them away. You’ll never have to see them again,” Bakari spoke soothingly.

            “I… alright?” Ah, at last he spoke. That deep voice was every bit as appealing as the rest of him, and Bakari was desperate to hear more. Preferably while crying out in pleasure as Bakari made them one, but first things first, he reminded himself.  Confusion coated those perfect features once more, and Bakari needed to banish it.

            “You are safe here. You have my word,” Bakari promised again. At those words, the man’s eyes grew guarded, and deep inside of him, Bakari ached. Likely he had no reason to trust such promises. But Bakari would show him differently.

            “Tell me your name,” Bakari coaxed, when he stayed silent. At this, the man looked away, glancing back towards the Nile which even now bore his captors far away. Bakari remained patient. Not a natural state for a Pharaoh used to every command being instantly obeyed, but he could try.

            At last, running a hand through that hair which Bakari wished to touch himself, the man cleared his throat. “Stevanos.”

            “Stevanos,” Bakari repeated, tasting the syllables of such a foreign, yet beautiful name. Yes, he decided, it fit his mate well. “It suits you.” And by the gods, a flush rose in that glorious golden skin! Looking shy, Stevanos bit his lip, gaze falling to the ground, the gesture nearly enough to break Bakari’s vow of patience. But Bakari was determined to take care of his mate, his _Stevanos_.

            Reaching out, Bakari clasped one of Stevanos’ hands in his own, the man jerking in surprise, though not pulling away. “Come, let us eat.” Not only was Bakari hungry, he did not know when Stevanos had eaten last. A state unacceptable to his Alpha nature. When Stevanos walked not unwillingly beside him, Bakari smiled in pleasure. Drawing Stevanos into the room adjacent to his own, where a veritable feast had been laid out, Bakari pulled out a chair for Stevanos who accepted it after only a moments’ hesitation, before sitting next to him.

            “What do you like?” Bakari questioned, gesturing to the spread laid out before them, watched as Stevanos’ brows knit in thought.

            “I… don’t know,” he confessed.

            “Well then, you ought to try it all,” Bakari grinned easily, and began piling a plate high with each delicacy. Beef, duck, delicately cooked vegetables, lentils, figs soaked in honey, fish and cheese. Normally, it was he who was served, those at his command filling his plate, feeding him if he so desired. Yet Bakari was delighted to discover there was bone deep pleasure in providing for his own Omega. Sliding the dish in front of Stevanos, Bakari smiled at him in encouragement when the golden haired man simply blinked, before pinning Bakari with his sky blue gaze, eyes piercing.

            “Why… why are you giving me all this?” Stevanos demanded, and for the first time Bakari heard a hint of the fire that had lit up those eyes at their first meeting. Uncertain for the reason behind it, but needing no time to contemplate a response, Bakari shrugged easily.

            “Because you are mine.” Of course he would take care of his intended. To do anything else was unfathomable. Yet rather than comforting Stevanos, it only seemed to spark his agitation, words bursting from him almost as though against his will.

            “No one owns me.”

            “Yes. You belong to no man,” Bakari agreed readily. Defiant anger melted into confusion, Stevanos stared at Bakari as though he were a riddle Stevanos could not unravel. Voice pitched low, implacable, Bakari continued. “I am no man.”

            Brows knitting, Stevanos demanded, “What _are_ you?”

            “Pharaoh. But to you… you may call me Bakari.” Voice turning into a purr, Bakari felt his pleasure grow when that delicious flush rose in Stevanos’ skin once more. Smirking, he picked up a morsel of meat, holding it to those plush lips he _very_ much was looking forward to learning with his own. Skin turning pinker yet, Stevanos delicately accepted the bite from his fingers, eyes hooded as he did so. And oh, how Bakari was very much looking forward to see if that flush spread elsewhere in more intimate situations. But for now – “Tell me about yourself.”

            “What do you want to know?” Stevanos questioned, clearly unbalanced by the request.

            Again, the answer was obvious. “Everything.”

            And so, time no longer frozen, it stretched out as Stevanos spoke into the night, hesitation slowly melting as he eventually relaxed into the care Bakari gave him. Enchanted by the man before him, who wove tales of a life Bakari could hardly imagine, Bakari felt as though all the maat in the universe, the state of balance within everything, had achieved its most perfect state. The harmony within him was complete, now that Stevanos was by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Communication... tricky for the best of us, and trickier yet when you're a Pharaoh who thinks statements like "mine" are completely obvious. But with him starting his seduction campaign, does Stevanos stand a chance of holding out? 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading, my lovely readers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning lovely readers! Enjoy :D

Waking slowly, Stevanos sighed in contentment as he burrowed deeper into the soft bedding that surrounded him. However the opulence of the smooth sheets and fine blankets were no comparison to the decadence of the scent that wrapped around him. Delicious notes of safety, protection, and his Alpha.

            Jerking upright at the thought, as unexpected as it was unwelcome, heart instantly pounding, Stevanos blinked as he stared around in confusion. Waking up to such an all-encompassing sensation of well-being was alien to him – just as foreign as the sleepy delight he’d taken in the scent of the man every part of him identified as _his_. Pulse a wild beat in his throat, Stevanos let out a trembling breath as he saw the room, and most specifically, the bed was empty. Relief spiked through him, and weak with it, he slumped back down to the downy surface, burying his face in his hands and struggling to order his chaotic thoughts – and to ignore the stab of disappointment that speared him at waking alone.

            Last night had been… unlike anything he’d ever known. The peace he’d found in the solitude of the balcony had been shattered when Pharaoh, when _Bakari_ arrived. Once more, the ruler and unmistakably tried to _comfort_ Stevanos. Perhaps it was simply a tactic to keep Stevanos docile, a slave that did not resist, he’d wondered more than a little wildly. But as Bakari had tugged him forward with gentle hands, then fed him, it didn’t seem the type of treatment any slave might receive.

            Truth be told, even the highest tiers of Roman society did not treat one another with such solicitous kindness. The very foreignness of it left Stevanos unsteady. He’d almost have preferred to be treated with cruelty, to be kept in the chains he’d been delivered in. At least then he’d know what to expect. So precarious was his grasp on what was happening, and how he was supposed to act to ensure his own survival, Stevanos had done precisely what he’d swore he would not do. He’d lost control of his ever present anger, and his words. _No man owns me_.

            Yet once _again_ , Bakari did nothing that Stevanos might have anticipated. Which left Stevanos to conclude that in this land so different from the city that had been his home, and thus for more beautiful and kinder than anything he’d ever known, he could presume nothing. Not even his own reaction to the man who he should hate above all others – the man who may not own him, yet controlled him just the same.

            When Bakari had urged him to share details of himself, Stevanos had seen no reason not to comply. If it forestalled a fate of execution that could meet a slave at any time – and one he feared almost more in this place where he’d yet to feel the sharp edges of cruelty he’d braced for – then he would speak until words failed him. But beneath that very logical rational, it had been… nice. Unexpected, and amazing to have someone show interest in him as a person.

            It was something he hadn’t known since the long ago days spent with his mother. Stevanos had never anticipated knowing it again, and certainly not with a Pharaoh who ruled over countless subjects. Stevanos was nothing. But sitting there, being so attentively attended to by Bakari, he hadn’t felt like nothing, or worse yet, simply an Omega, an object. Stevanos had felt like _someone_. A sensation seductive enough to keep him talking well into the night, as those arresting eyes drank him in as though he were the most important someone of all.

            Eventually Stevanos had done the most dangerous thing yet. He’d nearly forgotten the insurmountable difference in Bakari’s and his stations. He’d nearly forgotten that the man had the right to determine every aspect of Stevanos’ life from here forward, up to and including his death. He even forgot that Alphas were the cause of all the pain his life had held thus far. Between the sweetness of the wine, and the touch of Bakari’s fingers lingering on his lips with each morsel Stevanos was fed, somehow nothing else seemed to matter besides the fact that Stevanos responded to this man as he had no other. And Bakari was staring at him like he was everything. Until, at last the many lamps had burned low, and Bakari had led him away from the table and back into the bed chamber.

            All at once, the nearly drugging intimacy of the night that had settled into Stevanos fled. Varo’s words haunted him. Had this night simply been a prelude to Stevanos being used as nothing more than a sexual object? Despite the undeniable pull towards the Alpha – no, the _Pharaoh_ – that he despised in the sudden moment of clarity, Stevanos had no desire to be a belonging, sexual or otherwise. While Bakari had promised him safety more than once, Stevanos was all too familiar with Emperors using the rhetoric of “keeping Omegas safe” to justify any manner of horrors.

            When Bakari had made to coax him towards the unfairly enticing bed, for the first time Stevanos had resisted, using his not inconsiderable strength to stay his ground. Though some foolish, basic instinct inside of him which whispered encouragement to submit would not allow him to roughly jerk away from Bakari. Stevanos could not chance hurting him. And gods, if that wasn’t the most dangerous thought of all.

            When Bakari had looked at him in surprise, Steve saw something in that gaze which thus far had only been confident charm, or attentive care. For the first time, it was Bakari who looked as confused as Stevanos had felt these last several hours. Despite the careful restraint of Stevanos’ strength, the Pharaoh almost looked hurt.

            “Zamil,” Bakari began, features uncertain. “Do you not wish to sleep with me?”

            And, oh, the worst of it was that Stevanos _did_ , traitorous Omega instincts that had been silent his whole life suddenly screaming awake, insisting that this Alpha was his. But to simply give up, give in, give himself away without a fight – it wasn’t who Stevanos was.

            Struggling to find words now, when still battling the ridiculous urge to not wound the Pharaoh’s feelings – as though someone as inconsequential as he were even capable of it – Stevanos stuttered. “It’s not… I don’t…” a harsh breath, as he drew his hands through his hair, the nervous gesture turning Bakari’s gaze contemplative. Before sudden understanding dawned in that piercing gaze, which only made Stevanos more nervous, when he wasn’t sure precisely what it was Bakari seemed to understand.

            “I see.”

            Did he? Because Stevanos certainly did not.

            “Sleep only, I promise. You must be tired after your journey. I want you to sleep well, and be well rested.” The order was arrogant, and yet, still _kind_. Again, it could all be a lie. But what reason did Bakari have to lie, when he could demand anything at all? Biting his lip, Stevanos looked back towards the bed, warring with himself, ruthlessly silencing the gleeful voice that insisted he do precisely as his – no, _the_ , not his – Alpha demanded.

            Stevanos was tired. There was no way any plans of escape could be enacted tonight. Bakari had promised nothing more than sleep. And if the Alpha tried anything else… well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d defended himself. Huffing out a breath, Stevanos met Bakari’s gaze once more, and nodded. He was rewarded with those perfectly sculpted lips curling into the most devastating of smiles. Stevanos harshly squashed the foolish, gleeful voice rejoicing in his mind.

            Stevanos had anticipated he’d have a difficult time falling asleep, if he’d even be able to at all, never having slept next to another person before. Shockingly though, it seemed no time had passed before he was waking up. Alone.

            Shoving back up into a sitting position, since it would be far too easy to roll around in the sheets that still smelled mouthwateringly of Bakari, Stevanos took a steady breath. Alright. So, really, nothing to freak out about. He’d stayed alive last night, which had been the goal. Nothing had occurred. And if he’d felt a little too affectionate to the man essentially holding him prisoner, in the soft flickering lamp light, well, it was a new day. He had his priorities straight once more.

            Pushing out of the bed with more difficulty that he’d like to admit, Stevanos smoothed the simple tunic he wore, before spotting his sandals neatly tucked against the wall. Quickly strapping them on, he resolved to make up for his distraction last night, and do what he could today to learn is surroundings. While it was highly unlikely he’d be allowed to wander freely, he wouldn’t know until he tried. Starting right now.

            Moving towards the chamber door, he stood for a moment, listening for noise on the other side. Nothing. Carefully, Stevanos swung it open just far enough to slide through. Before he jolted back with a high pitched noise he just barely managed to turn into a somewhat masculine yelp. Hearing the sound of the guard at the door chuckling, Stevanos ignored it, staring instead at the diminutive female who stood there, staring back up at him with awe. Tinier yet than the flame haired woman who had led him here the night before, her hair was a gorgeous tumble of darkly waving hair, falling all the way to her slim waist. Fine white linen draped over her slender curves, while gold dripped from her wrists, neck and ears. Vaguely, Stevanos wondered if everyone in Egypt was ridiculously beautiful. Clearly everyone in this palace was.

            “Hello?” he chanced, having no idea how to proceed.

            “Oh! Right! Hello. Wow, it’s just… you’re exactly what they’re all saying. I didn’t believe it but, well, here you are. The almuluk alzawj aleazim,” she breathed.

            “Uh, sorry?” Stevanos wasn’t sure what unsettled him more. The idea that they all, whoever _they_ were, were saying something about him. Or the string of words she’d just called him. It didn’t _sound_ like an insult, spoken in her soft, melodious voice, but, for all he knew, it meant slave destined for death.

               Instantly she blushed, shooting the guard a quelling look when his chuckles turned to outright laughter. “Right, how rude of me. I’m Wanidah.”

            “Stevanos,” he offered uncertainly.

            “A pleasure to meet you. If you’ll follow me?”

            Even as he did, because he couldn’t think of a reason not to, Stevanos couldn’t help but question, “Um, where?”

            The smile she shot him was kind, just one more jolt when all the Omegas he’d ever known in Rome had feared him, and with good reason. More than one had met their end at his hands. Yet this tiny Omega showed no fear as she walked bouncily by his side.

            “Pharaoh had to meet with the royal officials today in regards to trade agreements, and he ordered no one wake you. But once you were up, I was to take you to breakfast, and then show you around.”

            Stevanos blinked at the rapid fire explanation. Truthfully, it fit with his own plans seamlessly, although even better, with a guide at his side. But more than that, it was unexpectedly kind, which in no way fit his understanding of how a slave was treated.

            Pushing away the dangerous sensation of tenderness that was stubbornly growing within him, Stevanos returned her smile. “Lead the way.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arabic translations (assuming google translate didn't lead me wrong :)
> 
> Zamil - Mate  
> Almuluk alzawj aleazim - King's great husband


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: "Ah, now I shall relax and watch the Superbowl."  
> Me 4 hours later, looking up from writing this chapter: "Wait, who won?"
> 
> Enjoy the next chapter my lovely readers! And a huge thank you for the incredible response I've received. I never thought Egyptian/Roman Stucky was a thing other people would truly get in to, but you having, just proving once again I have the most awesome readers! You rock.

“Oo, look at this one, isn’t it gorgeous?” Bakari breathed as he lifted the collar necklace with reverent hands.

            “Uh huh,” Nathifa replied, tone the epitome of unimpressed. “Listen, shaqiq-”

            “Stevanos doesn’t have a favorite color. He told me that when I asked, said he’d never really had a reason to think about it. Can you imagine?” Face temporarily clouding at the reminder of the harsh life his mate had led thus far, Bakari quickly brightened up again. “Maybe I should get him something in every color!” At that, the jeweler before them perked up hopefully. Nathifa rolled her eyes.

            Last night had been everything Bakari had ever dreamed it could be. Meeting his mate had been stunning and shocking and wonderful, finally finding the one who would fit him perfectly. Of course Bakari would adore his mate. Yet talking with Stevanos, it had taken him by surprise just how much he _liked_ the blond.

            As the evening progressed, Stevanos had eventually relaxed enough to share stories of his life with little prompting. At which point Bakari had been entirely enchanted. Stevanos was… everything. Courageous and strong and beautiful, and from what Bakari had inferred from his words, incredibly lonely. Stevanos had painted a picture of a life unlike anything Bakari could relate to.

            Struggling to make ends meet with his mother, who he’d lost at a tragically young age. Being taken by the Roman government, due to a law that left the ruler in Bakari furious. Then worse yet forced into the travesty of the gladiatorial games for sport. Bakari was no stranger to death, having seen it and even delivered it himself. But to kill another, not in battle, but for pure _sport_ , the lack of honor that took left him seething, and all the gladder he’d dismissed the emissaries. Bakari wanted nothing to do with Rome – unless it was to burn the city to the ground. But that was a consideration for another day.

            The Alpha within Bakari had raged over the mistreatment which he was certain was much worse than Stevanos’ words implied, and barely restraining a low snarl. It was unacceptable treatment of Omegas in general, and criminal treatment of his mate. Yet it had soothed him to feed his mate, to watched with hooded eyes as Stevanos delicately accepted bites from his fingers, the feel of those plush lips brushing his skin stirring another, much more pleasurable fury in his veins.

            By the end of the meal, Bakari had wanted nothing more than brush Stevanos’ skin with his own lips. To taste the man who was more mouthwatering than all the sumptuous food they’d dined on. Yet when Stevanos had hesitated, Bakari quickly read the nerves emanating from the other man with the skill of the masterful tactician he was. Bakari had made the stunning conclusion that Stevanos had never done this before. The realization had leveled Bakari, who’d had to reassess his seduction tactics. His beautiful, and adorably shy Omega needed careful coaxing into the paradise Bakari was eager to provide him. Bakari found himself oddly delighted by the opportunity.

            Though no virgin himself, finding his release in a warm willing body was still something Bakari rarely partook in. He was too busy with ruling a nation, while mind and heart longed for the mate he knew he’d find some day. For the individual who would be uniquely _his_ in a way none of Bakari’s subject were. As such, all of his previous encounters, while physically enjoyable, had never engaged his heart. But the thought of tempting and enticing the exquisite man, of slowly introducing Stevanos to the delights they could find in one another, emotion adding a gorgeous depth to it all – it was a delightful contemplation.

            So Bakari had counseled himself to be patient. Truth be told though, simply sleeping in the bed with the other man had been the most decadent of luxuries. His Alpha instincts had been happily satisfied, scenting Stevanos lying beside him, breath even and deep. And waking up, rolling over to see that beautiful face relaxed in sleep was the best gift Bakari had ever received.

            It had been torturous to pull himself away, yet the never ending duties hadn’t permitted him to simply stay, to bask in the glorious wonder of it all, to press his face into the scent glands beneath Stevanos’ skin and roll around in that delicious aroma. Bakari had made certain though that Stevanos would want for nothing upon waking up, his mate his first priority. Bakari had demanded that all the foods Stevanos had enjoyed especially would be ready for his breakfast. And he’d personally tracked down Wanidah, gotten her eager promise that she would accompany Stevanos on a tour through the palace. The young woman, a member of his rarely visited harem, was one he’d never lain with. Not out of dislike, but rather because her eager enthusiasm and unfailing sweetness had instantly made her feel like another younger sister, cheerful optimism to Nathifa’s dark cynicism.

            Fortunately, Wanidah had taken no offense, having no designs on him personally or on the prestige being a favorite concubine or even a wife would have brought her. Instead she’d told Bakari more than once she was simply grateful for the opportunity to live in the safety and beauty of the palace, and happy to spend her time on the artistic pursuits that the few members of the harem enjoyed in their unlimited free time. No amount of insisting he didn’t need or want a harem had budged the tradition obsessed members of the court, but it was nice to know Wanidah at least wasn’t spending her time plotting his painful death over the insult of being neglected. Particularly since, now that he had Stevanos, the physical pleasures offered by the harem were something Bakari would have no need to partake in again.

            That done, Bakari had gone off to the meeting regarding a new trade agreement, certain at the end of it, he’d come to the best arrangement for the royal treasury, and his people. At which point he’d been eager to track down Stevanos, more than a little desperate to be in the man’s company, bask in the rare smiles that were brighter than the sun. First though, Bakari was determined to shower Stevanos in the types of gifts his life had conspicuously lacked. Stevanos not only deserved the best, he deserved everything.

            “Don’t you think that might be a little… excessive?” Nathifa questioned dryly. The jeweler shot her a dirty look before quickly coaching it into a more respectful expression. Bakari shot her a scandalized glare. He’d asked her to accompany him when the jeweler had arrived, knowing her tastes were exquisite. But thus far, she’d contributed little more than exasperated sighs.

            “Nothing is too much for Stevanos. Hmm, he would look particularly exquisite in blue, it would truly bring out his eyes.” Eagerly the jeweler held up a wrist cuff, redolent with blue stones set in swirling gold. Ah, yes, this was exactly the sort of thing Stevanos would look incredible in. Bakari added it to the growing yes pile.

            “I’m simply wondering if you’re getting ahead of yourself. Yesterday, this man-”

            “Stevanos,” Bakari interjected fiercely.

            “Stevanos,” she amended, holding up a hand in acceptance. “Was a slave. Today, he’s bound to an Pharaoh. I’m simply wondering if he understands the drastic change his life has taken. Perhaps you should be focusing on making sure he’s aware of that adjustment, rather than overwhelming him with more presents than he probably knows what to do with.”

            Bakari waved her concern aside as he contemplated matching ankle cuffs. Then he discarded them, not wanting to chance the items reminding Stevanos of the chains that so recently had held him captive. “I told him he was mine. He understands.”

            “Really?” Impressive, how she could fit so much sarcastic disbelief in one word. It was a skill, really. “Because, as far as his captors were concerned, he was ‘theirs’ twenty four hours ago. That word might not have the same connotation for him.”

            At that, Bakari paused, considering her words. Could it be, that Stevanos had no idea just who he was to Bakari, and by extension, to the entire nation? If so, Bakari had to rectify that. But he saw no reason that _couldn’t_ include showering his Omega with the finest gems and precious metal possible.

            “If that’s the case, I’ll be sure to address it.”                   

            Giving him an approving shoulder pat, her lips finally curved into a smile. Yet Bakari barely had the chance to enjoy her mood improvement before she ruined it by adding, “And you might want to make sure he actually likes you back.”

            “What?! What’s not to like?” Bakari demanded, offended. Nathifa, the brat, simply laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shaqiq - Brother
> 
> So I'm pretty sure the E rating promised some smut... This next chapter will be getting a bit... steamy ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! Here we are again. You may notice this chapter is extra long. It would have made sense to break it into two. However, I didn't want to go back on my promise of steam, so enjoy a long chapter! 
> 
> Also, for anyone wondering, Wanidah is in fact Wanda :) 
> 
> Fun fact - ancient Egyptians shaved the hair from their bodies, including the hair from their heads, and then wore elaborate wigs. While Bakari is shaved nearly everywhere (wink wink) he does have his own natural lovely hair on his head, because I'm a sucker for Bucky with long hair.

After hours spent with the chattering Wanidah, who had enthusiastically pointed out what each separate building was for, explaining the meanings of various statues and carvings, and answered all of Stevanos questions while peppering in plenty of her own for him, Stevanos was faced with two inescapable facts. The first was the largest detriment to his escape plans - every moment day or night, there was always someone _there_.  Wanidah had greeted them all by name, from different servants to the countless members of the guard – the Medjay she’d called them.

            That in itself was no different than the life Stevanos had lead before in Rome, which now felt a lifetime ago, when there was never a true moment of solitude.   The truly strange part was that all these people, Wanidah especially, were _kind_ to him. The guards respectfully bowed as Stevanos and Wanidah walked by, a courtesy Stevanos was certain was for the woman beside him. The servants all sent him wide smiles, some sending him knowing winks that he didn’t understand, yet found himself blushing over regardless. Which led to the second inescapable fact.

            The more of the beautiful palace he saw, full of the visual delights Stevanos could never have dreamed, and the more genuine smiles that he received, the louder a small voice inside of him became, insisting he didn’t _want_ to leave. Which shook Stevanos to his core.

            From the instant he’d discovered his new fate, Stevanos had been planning his escape. Chained and bound from Rome, all the way across the sea, until he’d walked into the palace, there had been no chance of it then. But here, he’d just needed one instant of distraction, one moment where no one’s eyes were on him, to slip away. To be in control of his own life at last. And yet… yet nothing from the moment he’d looked into Bakari’s eyes had made him feel captive. Instead, he felt captivated, and for the first time in his life, it left him feeling torn.

            Now, Stevanos struggled to reconcile the last twenty four hours with what he knew of slavery. Like the way Bakari had demanded the shackles be removed from his limbs, and not replaced them with something else, possibly worse. That had been enough to leave Stevanos feeling unsteady. Then the Pharaoh himself had chosen to spend the evening with him, feeding him and asking countless questions. The genuine interest on that perfectly sculpted face could not be faked. Perhaps it was simply because Stevanos was a curiosity, a captive from a land far away, one who could entertain the ruler for a night. But it hadn’t felt like it.

            Then, despite what Stevanos had read as desire on Bakari’s face – though gods, how would Stevanos know, his own experience laughably lacking – the man had kept his word. Bakari had kept his hands to himself, and allowed Stevanos to simply sleep on the most decadently plush bed of his life.

            If that alone weren’t enough to leave Stevanos second guessing his inherent need to run away, there was the palace itself. The sand colored buildings against the brilliant blue sky painted a gorgeous picture, and despite the vast intricacy of the complex, it all felt so open in a way Rome never had. The sensation left Stevanos feeling freer than he ever had, even if it was all just an illusion.

            Biting his lip, Stevanos glanced at Wanidah who walked beside him, his natural stride shortened to match her daintier steps. She’d been a wonderful companion throughout the day, filling the air with chatter as he ate his breakfast, unable to help but gorge himself on the decadent food, never before having had the opportunity to eat as much as his heavily muscled frame would like. Then she’d led him with familiarity through the palace, questioning him about life in far off Rome, all while teaching him the nuances of life in the palace with a patience and kindness he found disconcerting. 

            More disconcerting yet was the way she didn’t seem to fear him, the way all Omegas had learned to before.  In Rome they'd dreaded meeting their end at his hands, as so many of them had.  Yet here, Wanidah patted his massive shoulder with a tiny hand, never taking care to stay out of his reach, seemingly unconcerned that with his strength he could literally break her in two.

            Stevanos didn't try to resist her friendly gestures.  In part, because the less attention he called to himself while learning the lay of the palace and the land beyond, the better.  But also, he admitted to himself, it felt _nice_.  Unfamiliar but wonderful, to be spoken kindly to, by those who had nothing to gain other than friendship.  As seductive as the sensation was, it was also dangerous.  Because with each dimpled smile she granted him, every laugh his dry assessments of Rome teased out of her, Stevanos found it harder to imagine eliminating Wanidah if she eventually got in the way of his escape.  But starved as he was for affection, he couldn't seem to stop.

            Perhaps though, she might be able to help him. Not in escaping, because after the kindness she’d shown, the last thing he’d want to do was put her at risk by implicating her. But rather, maybe she could illuminate this situation he had found himself in which left him feeling more uncertain than ever before.

            “Wanidah, can I ask you something?”

            Pausing in explaining the impressive statue of Horus that they stood admiring, she glanced up at him, smiling as always.

            “Oh course, that’s what I’m here for.”

            “Are you, well, a slave too?” Those dramatically lined eyes widened in surprise, and a hint of affront.

            “A slave? No, of course not. I’m part of the royal harem,” Wanidah replied, insult in her voice. And, no, that’s the last thing Stevanos was wanted to do.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I shouldn’t assume. I’m just trying to,” a pause, a broken sigh, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Trying to understand,” he finished quietly, not seeing the way her expression softened, as she patted his arm once more.

            “That’s okay. But to answer your question, the only slaves here are enemies of war that have been conquered. The rest of us either live here, or are servants employed by Pharaoh.”

            “And, what’s he like?” Stevanos questioned hesitantly, not wanting to upset her after all her kindness, even as he grappled with the impact her words had left. Stevanos was not a prisoner of war, he was a gift. One that Bakari had accepted, his declaration that Stevanos was “his” leaving no doubt. If he was not a slave, Stevanos felt his position was even more precarious than before. To be undefined was dangerous.

            At that, Wanidah’s brows lifted, as though it was a question she’d never considered. “He… _is_. Each Pharaoh is the embodiment of Horus, the Hawk God, who is the ruler of sky and heaven.” She gestured back at the statue. “Horus’ spirit lives within the Pharaoh, guiding him in all things. But if I were to try and describe him-” A thoughtful pause, as they lingered in the shade of several palm trees. “He is a great ruler. The best this land has seen. Fair, yet strong, he’s led Egypt into prosperity. And I know he’s been searching for someone to share his life with for a long time.”

            The last was nearly a whisper, and for no reason that he could explain, Stevanos felt heat rising in his skin. Not embarrassment, because of course this had nothing to do with him. But at the thought of another being treated as Bakari had treated Stevanos last night, and then sleeping in such close quarters with him… the idea left Stevanos discomforted. The unbidden image of Bakari and Wanidah wrapped around one another, both stunningly beautiful, and surely that had happened if she was part of the royal harem, left his even more discomforted. Every bit as unsettled as the thought of trying to escape made him. What was becoming of himself in this land, Stevanos wondered in despair.

            Grateful for the distraction when he heard a voice calling out, he turned, then paled slightly when the same lethal redhead from the prior evening approached. Though she skimmed her eyes over him, the inspection brief yet thorough, she dismissed him in favor of turning to Wanidah.

            “Pharaoh has completed his meeting. I’ll be taking Stevanos back to him.”

            “Oh course, Vizier. Thank you,” Wanidah bowed respectfully, before she gifted Stevanos one last smile. “Hope to see you soon!”

            Stevanos simply nodded because his throat feel unusually tight, both from the genuine affection in her voice, and the jealousy he had no right feeling. To say nothing of the inherent danger in the small female who led him away. As she led him with confidence back towards Bakari’s chambers, Stevanos followed quietly, deep in thought. So he was startled when she spoke. “How was your time with Wanidah?”

            Glancing over, and seeing her exquisite face carefully blank, he nodded hesitantly. “It was certainly… informative.”

            At the choice of words, she lifted a brow, looking as though she’d read every secret thought held within him, and Stevanos immediately cursed himself. Was he _trying_ to give himself away, ruin all chance of escape? _Maybe_ , whispered that tiny voice that refused to be banished. Before he could try and repair his mistake, they were interrupted.

            “Vizier Nathifa,” the guard who stood at Bakari’s door spoke.

            This time her raised eyebrow looked playful, expression warming into one Stevanos hadn’t thought the lethal woman capable of. She looked shockingly approachable. Impressed, Stevanos glanced at the man responsible for such a look, saw the guard give him a subtle wink.

            “Clinthamun,” she retorted, voice bored, but both men heard the amusement behind it.

            “If I may, I feel your neck is looking unacceptable bare today. Perhaps this will rectify it,” Clinthamun said, casually holding out a necklace, finely crafted, composed of gold and red stones that perfectly matched the woman’s hair. Impressed, Stevanos turned to Nathifa, curious to see just how she’d react.

            Apparently, she felt the appropriate response was to mutter about ridiculous men buying ridiculous gifts that were ridiculously unnecessary, yet there was no hiding the flush of pleasure that lit up her skin, as she accepted it with a scowl, and clasped it around her throat.

            “Well?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

            Clinthamun’s eyes skimmed over her with a familiarity that now had Stevanos fighting back a blush, even as he admired the man’s tactics. “Much better.”

            More than a little invested in seeing how this tableau played out, Stevanos felt nearly disappointed when the door swung open. Until he glanced over, and saw Bakari’s face. Which somehow seemed even more perfect than the last time Stevanos had gazed upon it. And then, the last thing he was feeling was disappointed.

 

 

“Stevanos,” Bakari purred, his low voice sending a shiver down Stevanos’ spine, at complete odds with the warmth of the air. When Bakari held out a hand, Stevanos didn’t resist taking it, letting himself be pulled inside, the door closed behind him.

            He should stop staring, Stevanos though distantly. Yet he couldn’t quite see why, when Bakari was practically drinking him in with those deep water eyes, visibly inhaling, drawing Stevanos’ into his lungs. In helpless response, Stevanos breathed deeply too, nearly moaning at the taste of happy Alpha that rolled into him. The wood, sand, and water scent of Bakari deepened, the elemental aromas rounded out by a spice that enflamed. By the gods, the man smelled good.

            “Did you have a nice day?” Bakari asked, as though it were of the utmost importance.

            “Yes,” Stevanos managed, any more complicated sentences feeling out of reach when Bakari continued to hold his hand, thumb stroking over the unexpectedly sensitive skin of his wrist.

            “I’m glad,” Bakari murmured, those sculpted lips curving up into a smile far too enticing for Stevanos’ good. Then Bakari released his grip on Stevanos’ hand, who immediately felt bereft, and then annoyed with himself.

            But his emotions quickly melted into staggered, when Bakari turned to an exquisitely carved table that Stevanos saw was positively laden with jewelry. Turning back, Bakari held out two wrist cuffs. “What do you think?”

            “They’re incredible,” Stevanos answered honestly, gaze tracing the intricate carving work within the gold surface, surrounding gems bluer than any sky he’d ever seen. Then he was turned speechless when Bakari grabbed his hand once more, this time to raise it, secure the band around first one wrist, then the other.

            “Perfect,” Bakari spoke, expression smugly pleased. When Stevanos raised wide eyes from the riches casually encircling his skin, he saw Bakari was not looking at the precious metal, but rather at _Stevanos_.

            Swallowing convulsively, Stevanos struggled to find words through the shock coating his mind. “I don’t understand.” _Any_ of this. Most particularly not the naked expression of _affection_ that slid over Bakari’s face.

            “You deserve beautiful things. So I bought them for you.” A casual shrug, as though it was no big thing, even as Bakari turned, and lifted up a necklace that rivaled the one Clinthamun had purchased for beauty.

            “But, why?” Stevanos demanded, nonplused as Bakari laid the necklace around his throat, fingers stroking gently over his skin. There was no hiding the responding shudder.

            Instantly, gentle hands cupped Stevanos face. “Because you are mine. You understand that, right Stevanos? I will take care of you. I will never let any harm come to you. I’ll take care of you.”

            No, no he didn’t. Stevanos didn’t know how to comprehend the kindness Bakari had shown him, or the insane generosity now as the ruler slid several carved rings on his fingers, Bakari making happy noises of triumph when he saw they fit.

            “But,” Stevanos began weakly. Only to be cut off when Bakari held up a fine white length of fabric.

            “Also, I thought we could get rid of that garment you’re wearing. Far too scratchy and uncomfortable. But first, I’d say a bath is in order. Wouldn’t you agree?”

            For the first time, Stevanos noted the large metal tub that had somehow been dragged into Bakari’s chamber, fragrant steam rising from the surface of shimmering water. Stevanos helplessly moaned aloud.

            A bath was a luxury beyond measure. Water was a precious commodity not wasted on gladiator cleanliness. Instead the fighters had oiled themselves, then scraped the slick fluid and any dirt or sweat from their bodies with the strigil, a dull curved blade. It was a process he’d hated, never feeling truly clean enough. To experience an actual bath… he wouldn’t even know where to begin.

            “I don’t-”

            Watching the rapture moving over Stevanos’ features, a flicker of something like sadness moved in Bakari’s gaze. Before it was quickly replaced with something much hotter, and darker. “Of course, I must join you. To make sure you do it right, of course. Can’t have you forgetting to wash a spot.”

            Gulping now at the wicked amusement in Bakari’s voice, Stevanos battled with himself, Varo’s warning echoing distantly in his head. Yet Bakari had forced _nothing_ on him thus far. And by the gods, did Stevanos want it. Both the bath, and the way those eyes caressed him, as though he were beautiful, valuable.

            “Here, don’t want to get these wet,” Bakari said, as he helpfully pulled off the jewelry he’d just bedecked a stunned Stevanos with. Before Bakari removed his own, and then to Stevanos embarrassment and delight, the fabric wrapped around his waist, leaving him utterly naked.

            Stevanos had seen his fair share of nudity in the arena, when privacy was non-existent. Yet never before had he seen someone so perfectly sculpted, muscle and silky soft skin creating the most enticing of forms. While nudity was a state that left one vulnerable, there was nothing but confident power in the man as Bakari smirked slightly, before climbing into the tub, and settling into the water with a pleasure drenched moan that had Stevanos’ cock thickening helplessly.

            “Stevie, come in before it gets cold,” Bakari coaxed. It was the intimacy of the nickname, unexpected and wonderful, that had Stevanos kick off his sandals and tugging off the rough fabric of his tunic before he could second guess the decision, or his own sanity. Clambering awkwardly into the large tub, the instant the hot water hit his skin, all he could do was groan aloud and praise the gods.

            “So good,” he slurred, sinking deep until the water was nearly at his nose, content to lay there the rest of his natural life. At least, until he felt Bakari’s toes playfully nudging at his, the two men sitting at opposite ends, knees bent. At that, Stevanos abruptly remembered the man he’d entirely forgotten about in his ecstasy over the water’s toasty embrace. The very naked man. Stevanos hoped the steamy water might explain away the sudden violent flush rising in his skin.

            If Bakari noticed, he didn’t seem to care. Picking up both a piece of soap, and a soft cloth draped over the edge of the tug, he worked up a rich lather, before smiling enticingly at Stevanos once more. Unable to resist, Stevanos shifted closer, gasping almost silently when Bakari grabbed his hips, and tugged until Stevanos was kneeling over Bakari’s now out stretched legs. “May I?” Bakari questioned, his own voice rough as his gaze traced over the water beaded muscles right before him.

            Stevanos blew out a trembling breath. Before he nodded. It didn’t have to mean anything, he promised himself. Just because he intended to leave later, didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the now, Stevanos reasoned. Then all thought fled when Bakari reached out, and began to gently slide the cloth over him.

            Tenderly, the other man traced his arms, his neck, his chest, reaching around to the helplessly flexing muscles of his back as Stevanos gripped onto the edge of the tub, eyes closed to better drink in each sensation. All before Bakari dropped the cloth into the water, and retraced his path with sensitive fingers instead, kneading and pressing and caressing so pleasurably Stevanos could not contain the breathy little gasps that escaped his parted lips.

            His body felt as though it was fracturing beneath the delicate treatment. Coming apart in confusion when he was conditioned that any touch equaled pain. This was so very far from pain, he could hardly understand it, trembling as Bakari whispered soft words that Stevanos was too consumed to hear, yet his Omega soul reveled in. Bakari was taking _care_ of him. The way he’d always secretly wished an Alpha, _his_ Alpha would.

            It was paradise, Bakari’s careful yet strong touch learning him as no one else ever had. Intoxicated, Stevanos could only want more, leaning into the touch, wordlessly begging. Shuddering at the pleasure, he knew his cock was hard and throbbing between them, knew he ought to be embarrassed as he grew slick, his body aching and clenching, desperate to be filled. But all he could feel was such need, he thought he’d go crazy from it.

            “Buck,” Stevanos bit out as the man used a bowl to carefully pour water over Stevanos, rinsing the suds from his skin, before touching every inch of his body above the surface of the water all over again. Fingers teased over the tight nubs of Stevanos’ nipples, reached up to rub over the scent glands in his neck, traced the deep v of the muscles descending down Stevanos’ abdomen. Every touch slow, careful, and thorough, was sinking Stevanos down further into want.  

            “Stevie?” Bakari replied, voice tighter and deeper than ever before.

            “Please, I, I need…” Stevanos gritted out, no longer ashamed to ask for things he didn’t understand, but knew he needed. He knew he _wanted_ with this man, as he’d wanted with no one else. It couldn’t be so wrong, if he wanted it, right? To take what he could now, before he was gone, and would never have the chance again.

            “I know, shamsi, I know,” Bakari murmured soothingly, pressing his lips to Stevanos chest, and the heart that beat wildly beneath it.

            Stevanos keened out, the sweetness of the touch unraveling him. As though prompted by the sound, Bakari slid hands down to his hips once more, tugging Stevanos until he was no longer hovering above Bakari, but sitting in his lap, the straining lengths of their cocks brushing against each other. Feeling how equally aroused Bakari was had Stevanos trembling, leaking pre-come into the water. Then he cried out when a powerful hand gently clasped the back of his neck, pulling him closer yet until Stevanos was pressed chest to chest with Bakari. The better for Bakari to lick over his throat scent glands, grazing over them with his teeth, before sucking hard.

            “Alpha,” Stevanos panted, pleasure surging through him like crashing waves, ones he couldn’t be sure he’d surface from. And he didn’t care. The single word was a plead for more, and the breathy tone of it was clearly everything the other man needed to hear. A deep, rumbling growl emitted from Bakari before he carefully bit down on the juncture of Stevanos’ neck and shoulder, not in a mating bite, but the restrained power behind it sending Stevanos flying. Here was an Alpha not only powerful enough to hold him, but powerful enough to make Stevanos _want_ to submit.

            Whimpering, Stevanos finally let go of his grip on the metal, and instead wrapped his arms around Bakari’s chest, burying his face in the other man’s neck, marking himself in the other man’s scent. The living heat of Bakari felt like bliss, the scent of him richer and sharper than ever before as Stevanos pressed it into his very skin. At the move, Bakari’s growl grew louder, more possessive, and he wrapped his free hand around the both of their cocks beneath the water, stroking them simultaneously.

            “Is this alright?” Bakari managed, the growl in his voice making the words nearly unintelligible. Yet he had _asked_ , the explicit desire for consent making Stevanos’ cock pulse with pleasurable shock.

            “Yes,” Stevanos managed to gasp out, overcome by the dual stimulation of Bakari’s hand, and the deliciously thick length of him rubbing against Stevanos. He wanted, he wanted, he _wanted_. Trembling at the exquisite friction, the feel of a hand that was not his own was so shockingly, blissfully, erotically good, Stevanos kept up a steady stream of whimpers. Cuddling deeper against the Alpha, he gloried in the way the hand on his neck tightened possessively. Before it loosened, and trailed down the dip of his spine. Then it sank beneath the surface of the water, dipping further down until fingers were tracing over Stevanos slick rim, and pressed just the tiniest bit inside.

            Stevanos wailed as he shattered, whole body shaking as he rode the buffeting waves of the strongest orgasm he’d ever known, Bakari’s hand stroking them both through it all the while. Whining at the feel of the knot that had popped in Bucky’s cock, pressed up against his own, Stevanos rutted against it, before it all became nearly too much. Just as sensitivity tipped over into pain, Bakari stilled, then came with a shout. One that Stevanos swallowed after he reared back, watching the pleasure rippling over the man’s face, then jerking forward, capturing Bakari’s lips with him own. He sighed in pleasure when Bakari let go of theirs cocks in favor of wrapped an arm around Stevanos’ waist, pulling him impossibly closer as Bakari kissed him back with a passion that left Stevanos feeling close to passing out.

            Stevanos ignored the instincts that shouted this was everything he needed and wanted. Ignored the self-preservation that shouted at him to get away, before he no longer could. Ignored everything but the bliss of his very first kiss.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamsi - My sun
> 
> Yayyyy for smut! I hope you all enjoyed this, because overwhelmed Stevanos certainly did ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously love Bakari so much. More than I thought I would, and I thought quite a lot.

As the lingering flames of pleasure licked through his veins, Bakari felt overwhelmed. Not by the most deliciously erotic encounter of his life, but rather from the sheer reverence taking him over, until it felt that every cell of his body had been changed, replaced. As though his entire purpose in life was now and forever more to worship this man. Delicately cupping Stevanos’ face with one hand, the other still holding the man tight, Bakari reveled in adoration so complete it made him feel as though his lungs would burst, his heart would fail, with the enormity of the emotion. By the gods, he had been blessed, with someone so incredible as Stevanos.

            To be able to adorn the other man with beautiful jewels and metal had been a blessing, a symbolic expression of his Alpha need to take care of the man in every possible way. To provide for his every desire. And though Stevanos had asked for nothing, least of all riches, Bakari had been delighted to give him those. But to be able to _touch_ Stevanos, to gain his hesitant trust, and to provide the man pleasure which had rippled so naked and vulnerable across his flawless features – that had been the most physical of expressions of Bakari’s need to take care of Stevanos. And, gods, Stevanos was exquisite.

            Touching each inch of skin, slowly tracing over scars layered thick over muscle, Bakari had resisted the urge to kiss each one, not wishing to take more than his mate wished to give. But oh, how drawn Bakari was to the blatant display of his Omega’s strength. Not only the physical, demonstrated so gorgeously in acres of battled hardened muscle. But in the history etched into that skin, of the life Stevanos had overcome, to make it here to this moment.

            Each slow caress was a promise from Bakari’s very being, that Stevanos would never know such hardships again. Each touch was a wordless thanks for such an incredible mate. While many desired their Omegas to be small, delicate, or even subservient, Bakari had no such desire. A Pharaoh destined for greatness needed greatness by his side. And Stevanos was the epitome of every hope Bakari had ever held in his heart.

            Fuck, it was a blessing to see Stevanos cautiously lean into his touch. Like a shy animal that had known nothing but cruelty, yet still took the chance to trust. It was a trust that Bakari would never break, and so he’d been content to simply clean the other man, an act that had been performed for Bakari a thousand times over, yet one he’d never performed for another. In the doing, he discovered just how blissful it was to take care of the one person who was his _own_.

            Despite Bakari’s intentions to do nothing more than familiarize Stevanos with his touch, and perhaps give the man the simple pleasure of undemanding, gentle contact, there had no resisting the sheer erotic bliss that had tightened Stevanos’ features. Golden skin flushing prettily, sky blue eyes turning darker than the night, plush lips that Bakari was dying to taste parting as Stevanos made panting noises the likes of which Bakari had never known.

            It had been pure instinct to turn his touches more pointed, more focused on stoking that fire, because whatever his mate needed, Bakari had provided. And then when Stevanos had _asked_ , there was nothing Bakari wouldn’t have done for him.

            Bakari had never felt the jealous desire to be someone’s first, not in a world where heats and ruts assured the need for another from the time of sexual awakening. But seeing the ecstasy rolling over Stevanos’ face, his brows knitting together as though he was both stunned and confused by it, Bakari had been violently grateful he was Stevanos’ first. Though he did not know how it could be when Stevanos was so desirable, and had been held captive by brutal Alphas. But that was a conversation for another time. All that mattered in the moment was chasing that bliss for them both. When Stevanos had come in a glorious display of noise and trembles, Bakari could no more have prevented his own release than he could stop the sun from sinking in the night sky. Bakari had never _known_ just how much emotion could heighten sexual release.

            Now, as dragged his lips across Stevanos’, in a slow, drugging, endless kiss, Bakari cherished the feel of Stevanos’ thundering heart slowing against his own. Bakari coaxed him back down, even as he coaxed that mouth that moved so uncertainly against his own. By the time Bakari tugged on that deliciously plush bottom lip, prompting Stevanos to gasp at the wonder that teeth could be part of this, when Bakari swept his tongue inside, Stevanos met him eagerly. Uncertainty melted into demand, as their mouths met in a timeless dance, Stevanos licking at him and sucking on his tongue in turn. Great Ra, Bakari’s mate was perfect.

            It was only when he felt a renewed shiver tremble down Stevanos’ spine, that Bakari realized how long they’d sat there, Bakari holding Stevanos in place, while Stevanos gripped Bakari’s hair in his anxiously fisting hands. Long enough for the water to feel almost chilly compared to the warm night air. As much as Bakari had no desire to pull his lips away from Stevanos for even a moment, his need to protect was more important.

            “Stevie,” Bakari chastised, smiling at the adorable noise of protest had Stevanos made when Bakari reluctantly pulled back. He gave the back of Stevanos’ neck a warm squeeze, gratified when Stevanos melted in instant submission, though those glittering blue black eyes were still trained on Bakari’s lips. “Let’s get you out of the water.”

            Stevanos didn’t look impressed by the suggestion, but he stood up at Bakari’s urging, carefully stepping out of the metal tub while gripping onto Bakari’s hand. Then, as he stood almost shivering, Bakari could see the need in those eyes melting back into confusion, and something that looked almost like embarrassment, or worse yet, shame. That could not stand.

            Quickly Bakari stepped out as well, grabbing a large bath sheet, and wrapping it around the other man, tugging him closer. “You are absolutely perfect. So beautiful,” Bakari murmured, as he lovingly began to dry the other man in soft strokes of hands and fabric. Stevanos looked uncertain, almost disbelieving at the words – and oh how Bakari would love to slowly and viciously kill everyone who could ever put doubt in this beautiful man’s mind – yet Stevanos’ swayed into the touch none the less. Clearly starved for the verbal and physical petting. Good thing there was nothing Bakari wanted to do more.

            “Those eyes, bluer than the heavens,” Bakari continued as he knelt down to dry first one leg, than the other. He possessively eyed the heavy length of Stevanos’ cock which was showing signs of thickening once more, yet made no move to caress the other man. That was not what this was about. “That skin, softer than silk. Your voice, I could listen to it forever.” Bakari smiled at the inelegant snort Stevanos let out in response, while Bakari quickly dried himself off with perfunctory motions, before he discarded the bath sheet and led the man back to their bed.

            “And those lips…” Bakari gently pushed Stevanos until he lay back on the mattress, following him down to lean over the blond, tracing that parted mouth with a light finger. “I am certain scribes could compose never ending praises to those lips.” Shyly, Stevanos looked away, before with a surge of bravery he met Bakari’s gaze once more. Then he nipped at Bakari’s finger, before sucking it into the delicious heat of his mouth.

            Groaning, Bakari felt the suction as though it were tethered to his cock, each shy little suck sending a jolt of ecstasy through him. Tugging his finger free, Bakari replaced it with his own mouth. Even as Stevanos began to shift against him, Bakari soothed the man with long strokes down the planes of his back, keeping the kiss slow and soft, feeling the exhaustion beating from his mate. Soon enough, Stevanos’ breathing grew slow and even, as he succumbed to the lure of sleep.

            Watching that face, looking so much younger and free of its earthly worries in slumber, Bakari sighed in wonder. “My Stevie. My everything,” he whispered, pressing his lips gently to Stevanos’ forehead. Tugging the blankets over them both, Bakari pulling Stevanos closer to his side, and fell into the deep sleep on one who knew all was finally right in his world. Not knowing that hours later, nothing would be right at all. When he would wake up confused, and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUHHHH!!! Drama drama drama! Whatever shall happen next?? Stay tuned and find out >:D


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the cliffy! Enjoy lovely readers.
> 
> Special thanks to Hossam who has been so kind, and invaluable helping me with Arabic!

As Stevanos shifted his weight from one hand to the other, he was forced to confront two facts he would much rather have ignored. The first was that his childhood fear of heights had in no way diminished with age. If anything, the open air beneath his dangling feet only paralyzed him further into inaction, heart beat thundering, palms sweating, which only made his grip more precarious. A dangerous situation exacerbated by the fact Stevanos could not force himself to either pull himself back up, or let go. The first option led to certain defeat, the second, to certain death as well, his panicked brain insisted with persistent and vivid detail. Which lead to the second inarguable fact – when it came to planning things out, Stevanos pretty much sucked.

            As fear gripped him, Stevanos worked to control his breathing. Air in, air out. It was something simple, a task he could focus on. When his mind was a haze of panic, the simplest of tasks was a struggle, one he did not know if he could overcome. Yet it was not only the feel of the night air over his skin that heightened his frantic state. It was the dreams that still held him in their grip. A nightmare he worried he would never escaped.

            Falling asleep with Bakari had been a miracle. The pleasure the Pharaoh had blessed him with became secondary to the gentleness he’d wrapped Stevanos in, each kiss, each gentle touch slowly, persuasively peeling away the layers of protection Stevanos wrapped himself in every moment of life. It left Stevanos vulnerable in a way that both terrified and liberated him, as he was shown with each touch that Bakari would take care of him. For once, for _once_ , Stevanos had simply let go. He’d given in to the wordless promise, and with each answering move of his lips against the brunet’s, soundlessly asked for more.

            The sensation of safety and adoration as Bakari had cuddled him close had been as miraculous as it was unfamiliar. And Stevanos had drifted off in that sensation, every defense stripped away. Perhaps that had been what led to the nightmares, his shields normally hefted against the memories willingly cast aside.

            With no defense to stop them, the nightmares had come. Each brutal in their realism, because they _were_ real. Every blow inflicted upon Stevanos, each fresh taste of his own blood was nothing compared to the blows he was forced through circumstance and a refusal to surrender to inflict. Nothing compared to the blood he spilled with such skill, his screaming heart locked away where he could no longer hear it. It had kept Stevanos alive – his will to live, his cunning ability to beat the odds. His growing strength that protected him yet assured he’d never be freed, not when he was so valuable as a weapon. An instrument of pain, and a game piece used to satisfy the masses.

            Gasping silently awake, Stevanos had stayed deathly skill. It was a survival tactic, one that allowed him to gather as much information from his surroundings as he could, before his captors realized he was awake, and would either censor their words, or worse, simply continue the torment. It had taken Stevanos precious seconds to understand where he was, to recognize the arm wrapped so gently around him. Once he had, rather than dissipating the fear and pain that held him in a vicious grip, it only increased.

            What had he done? He’d given into the touch of his _owner_. And it had not been forced. Stevanos had willingly submitted - no, worse, he’d pleaded for more. Just like the whore Varo had named him. By the gods, perhaps the bastard of a man had been right. What else could explain Stevanos behavior, which would even a week ago have felt impossible? It was inexplicable. For the first time in his life long battle, he’d lost his will to fight, his desire to get away. If was unforgivable.

            Shame heavy on his mind, self-recrimination metallic and choking in his throat, Stevanos had tried to gather himself. And nearly broken when Bakari had shifted in his sleep, instinctively nuzzling against Stevanos’ neck in the sweetest of gestures. Was that Stevanos’ fatal weakness then? The man who’d held strong against the worst of torture, the degradation of all free will being stripped, would give in to the smallest gesture of kindness? The worst of it was, even now, even with his mind cleared of pleasure to realize how far he’d fallen, there was still a part of him that wanted to stay. It was that part that forced Stevanos to accept, if he didn’t leave now, he might never have the strength to do so again. And in staying, in being not only accepting, but _complicit_ in his own imprisonment, he’d never really be himself again.

            Though panic had still been a frantic crackling through his veins, electric and painful, the immediate goal had been clear. Get away. Stevanos had been just clear headed enough to realize after finally slipping out of Bakari’s far too welcome grip, that strolling out the chamber door wasn’t precisely the path to success. True, from what he’d seen today, success might well be impossible, but he had to _try_. Or give up everything he’d ever known himself to be.

            With that in mind, Stevanos had slipped out to the balcony. Then with a silence and grace that had served him well in the arena, he’d slid over the edge of the low wall enclosing the space. Before he’d realized the one thing he’d completely forgotten – the one thing the arena had _not_ been able to beat out of him. A paralyzing fear of heights.

            _It’s only the third floor. Just let go, and you’ll be fine,_ he coached himself. His self-preservation instinct was completely unimpressed by the persuasion. Sucking in another breath, Stevanos chanced looking down, before immediately clenching his eyes tightly shut. Fuck.

            Logically, Stevanos knew the fall would not be fatal. Given his height, and his arm reach, his feet were no higher up than the top of the first floor. If he could just let go, tuck up his legs, and roll upon impact, he would likely be no worse for the experience. The impact would be minimal compared to the blows that had landed upon him in fights. _Nope_. Clearly, his instincts were not in agreement.

            Sighing gustily, Stevanos let his head dangle, cataloging the ache that was spreading through his arms from supporting the entire weight of his body. Perhaps he could simply dangle there until his strength gave out, and then the matter would be solved for him. Because this was simply ridiculous, every moment he wasted here in frozen terror eating away at his chance of escape. Yet at the thought, his grip tightened, hands determined not to let go.

            “Nice night out here, eh?”

            Jolting at the voice that pierced the silence of the night, Stevanos cursed as his grip threatened to slip, clenching tighter on the edge of the wall before he slowly looked down and to his right. Into Clinthamun’s face, the Medjay’s expression calm as he observed Stevanos, dangling foolishly.

            “You know, I heard that Romans had some pretty unusual habits, but I have to say, this is new to me. You just… hanging out?” Though the words were delivered blandly, Stevanos could _hear_ the dry amusement behind them. He didn’t need to look at the guard to see the grin stretching over the sandy haired man’s face. Despite the height he still dangled from, Stevanos wondered if he could feel any lower.

            Gritting his teeth, Stevanos held back the multitude of pithy responses that leapt to the tip of his tongue. No reason to aggravate the man who had caught him mid pathetic escape attempt, and would now likely usher him to his death.

            Undaunted by Stevanos’ silence, Clinthamun leaned lazily against a palm tree, arms folded across his chest with a studied look of unconcern. “So, what happens after the hanging stage?”

            “Working on that part,” Stevanos huffed out, wincing as he felt his fingertips start to slip, sweat turning his grip all the more precarious.

            “Uh huh. And it never occurred to you to, oh, I don’t know, use the actual door?”

            At that, Stevanos rolled his eyes. Right. Like slaves bent on escaping just strolled through the front door. At least this ill-advised tactic had possessed a _chance_ of success. A chance that was now greatly reduced given his discovery by the smirking Medjay. Mentally considering his odds of overpowering the man who permanently looked relaxed yet had the stance and build of a man well versed in fighting, after the strain of dangling for who knew how long at this point, Stevanos swore more creatively at the sound of another voice.

            “Stevie? Stevanos!” Bakari’s voice was first confused, then frantic, evidently having woken and realized Stevanos’ absence. It was something the foolish voice inside to Stevanos adored, and was instantly squashed, the blond cursing his own weakness. And the expanded discovery of his truly abysmal escape attempt.

            “Down here, Pharaoh,” Clinthamun drawled, much to Stevanos’ annoyance. He would have glared at the man if he wasn’t so busy keeping his eyes scrunched closed, cursing all the gods of every religion for his current plight.

            “Clintha- Stevie!” Confusion turned into shock when Bakari moved out onto the balcony towards the guard’s voice and spotted Stevanos dangling with now trembling arms from the ledge. “Sohqan! Stevie, let me help you!” Bakari demanded, anxiety pulsing off him in waves that Stevanos could practically taste as the man rushed forward. Before that small voice inside Stevanos could luxuriate in the sign it insisted on interpreting as real caring, it was distracted by Clinthamun.

            “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

            Wait. What?

            Before Stevanos could do more than open his eyes, and demand Clinthamun not follow through on that vague and highly threatening promise, he was yelping when suddenly a strong hand wrapped around his ankle, and tugged. His shaking arms no match for the unexpected jerk, Stevanos shouted as his grip slipped entirely, and he began to fall. Straight into the Medjay’s arms. Who effortlessly caught him, them easily maneuvered him onto his own feet. Where Stevanos swayed for a second, before falling face forward.

            “Stevie!” Bakari caught him effortlessly, the Pharaoh having made the trip down to the courtyard in impossible time. Perhaps he’d simply jumped over the railing, with the strength and lack of fear befitting the god made human he apparently was, Stevanos though slightly hysterically. Abruptly Stevanos’ stomach, aggravated by the terror of dreams, the terror of dangling, the terror of being discovered, and the ultimate terror of those seconds free falling through the air, lost its own fight.

            “Shamsi,” Bakari murmured, rubbing Stevanos back gently as he supported the blond who bent forward, hands braced on knees, as his empty stomach revolted. Dry heaves racked his body, the jerks violent and painful. By the gods, how Stevanos wanted to simply lean into that soothing touch, to roll in that Alpha scent which was still redolent with fear yet now was overwhelmed by protective notes. It was that urge, after everything, that had Stevanos jerking away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stared at the Pharaoh with wide, wild eyes.

            “Don’t touch me,” Stevanos ordered in a voice that shook, Bakari’s eyes going just as wide in shock. Again, there was that look of hurt that made a new wave of guilt curl through Stevanos. He ignored it.

            “Well, I’ll just leave you to it,” Clinthamun said, and was summarily ignored. Eyes rolling, he strolled away, clearly having no desire to witness the exchange. Stevanos supposed he should be grateful for the lack of audience, and that the guard wasn’t executing him on the spot. But instead he was too busy battling his own heart to care.

            “Stevie, what is going _on_?” Bakari demanded, the confusion rolling of him tangling with his scent of concern. “Are you okay?”

            “Stop it,” Stevanos growled.

            “Why didn’t you wake me? If you needed something, or wanted to go out, why didn’t you tell me-” Bakari persisted, before Stevanos shouted over him, hands reaching up to shove the man away.

            “Stop it!”

            Bakari fell silent, mouth hanging open. He looked for all the world like each word from Stevanos’ mouth was driving hurt deeper into his flesh, when _no_ , it was the other way around. Control shattered, Stevanos snapped.

            “Stop acting like my feelings matter! Like my opinion matters! Like I actually have… choices. I can’t, I can’t handle it-” Voice cracking, Stevanos fisted his hands in his own hair, tugging in the vain hope that pain would center him. Would distract him from the pain shifting over Bakari’s features.

            “What-” Bakari whispered, yet was not heard over Stevanos jumble of words that tumbled out of him in an unstoppable torrent.

            “Being a slave is bad enough. But you pretending I matter – it just makes everything worse. So treat me for what I am. Do what everyone else has done. Beat me, threaten to kill me. But just stop acting like-”

            “You matter,” Bakari supplied, eyes devastated.

            Slumping, the fight drained out of him, Stevanos nodded, eyes closing in defeat. “Yeah.”

            Slowly, carefully, Bakari moved towards Stevanos who had lurched away in his anger. Stevanos, too beaten by circumstance and his own overwhelming, conflicting feelings to protest, simply opened his eyes, and watched dully as the man moved closer once more.

            “No. You _matter_. Omri. Stevanos. Sohqan, Nathifa was right. I’m an idiot. Stevanos listen to me. You are _not_ a slave.”

            Uncomprehending eyes stared back at Bakari. “What?” Stevanos questioned, weariness in his voice. He was utterly unprepared for this new tactic, whatever the hell it might be.

            “You will never be a slave again,” Bakari promised fervently, the passion in his voice unmistakable. It only confused Stevanos more.

            “But you… called me yours,” Stevanos protested. His senses which had been preparing for a an imminent execution for the last few minutes – fuck, for the past few days truly, felt scrapped raw.

            At that, Bakari’s mouth curved up slightly. The smile was oddly heartbreaking. “Yes. As I am yours. You’re not my slave. You’re my _mate_ Stevanos. My everything.”

            Body freezing, breath halting, mind stopping, it was though Stevanos was instantly encased in ice. He was stunned into shock by the words Pharaoh, _Bakari_ , had just spoken. It made no sense. It could not be… yet Bakari continued to stare at him, that Nile blue gaze shining in sincerity. Bakari _meant_ it.

            Well.

            Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Sohqan - Shit/Fuck  
> Shamsi - My sun  
> Omri - My life (expression of endearment)
> 
>  
> 
> Snap crackle pop! Finally Stevanos understands the true meaning of "mine"... but what will he do about it?? 
> 
> Thank you all for the comments! Your enthusiasm for this story and my writing is the best gift ever. <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! Life has been one long string of illnesses lately, which sucks. But I'm forging through to give you the next chapter, short as it may be! Short but important. Enjoy.

Staring at the emotion rippling across Stevanos’ face, for the first time, Bakari realized just how wrong he had been. For a man who was not simply a man, but a ruler of his people, confident in his every decision and action, it was a physically painful shock to comprehend that he could make such a mistake. But worse, for an Alpha who had tumbled from feelings of possession straight into love – a landing softer and more glorious than he ever could have imagined – to learn that he could be _alone_ in these feelings, was devastating.

            He’d thought, he’d been so _sure_ , that what he’d felt, they’d both felt. Bakari had believed that the future he’d always envisioned was now, and that Stevanos had understood it too. How could Stevanos not, when the power of the connection had instantly rocked Bakari, changed him irrevocably?

            Now every instance of Stevanos’ hesitation, his blushes which Bakari had interpreted as a shyness as enticing as it was adorable, took on an entirely different meaning. One that left Bakari feeling physically ill. Had Stevanos only complied out of fear, out of feelings of _having_ to give in to Bakari? And Bakari, in his arrogance, had never seen it for the forced submission it was? Bakari was used to commanding those in his kingdom, yet never once had he wanted that for them. Stevanos wasn’t his subject, he was Bakari’s _everything_. His equal, in life and in love. Or so he’d thought.

            Bakari had held back words of love, not yet pushed the idea of the mating bite, of eternally bonding, wishing only to give his beloved the chance to adjust to the radical changes that had overtaken his life. Yet, in not voicing those thoughts, he had allowed Stevanos to think that he was nothing more than a slave. By the gods, that thought hurt Bakari even more.

            When Stevanos swallowed convulsively, his ragged breathing the only sound that broke the silence, Bakari shook his head in disbelief at this state they had found themselves in. All of which was his own fault. “Didn’t you feel it too? The pull between us?”

            Those sky eyes went wider yet, Stevanos’ mouth trembling open, though no words came out. And there was more than shock in that gaze, Bakari was _sure_ of it. There was want in them. Perhaps confused, and overwhelmed, but it was _there_.

            Willing to ruthlessly use any hint of connection between them, Bakari shifted minutely closer. Pitching his voice lower, the Alpha rumbling in his chest was a noise of comfort that had Stevanos shoulders instinctively lowering fractionally.

            “I knew it, the instant I smelled you. And then when I saw you – it was as though Horus had designed the most perfect human possible. So beautiful,” Bakari murmured, watching as hunger bleed across Stevanos face. Not a sexual desire, but rather a heartbreaking need for the words of caring and adoration Bakari poured out. Even as the evidence of the loneliness his mate had endured had Bakari’s heart aching, he continued. He would praise this man until the end of time – but first, he had to convince Stevanos of what they could have. He had to convince Stevanos to stay.

            “But I had no idea that your soul could be even more beautiful. Then you talked to me, told me about your life, and I was even more certain that I had to know everything about you. That I could not wait to spend the rest of my life with you in it.” Moving closer still, Bakari didn’t chance touching the Omega, not yet. But the scent of possession and adoration that rolled off Bakari enfolded Stevanos the way his arms longed too. The blond drew in a deep breath, before his own scent, sharp and bitter with fright, anger and confusion began to soften the slightest bit. The rumbling in Bakari’s chest deepened with pleasure.

            “You are everything I have ever wanted. Kind, and strong, brave, compassionate. And so gorgeous. Shamsi… my sun,” Bakari repeated, realizing belatedly Stevanos would of course never have understood the title Bakari had bestowed upon him. He swore at himself for being a fool when Stevanos’ gaze turned almost wounded, yet in the most beautiful way. As though Stevanos could not risk believing what he was hearing, yet could not force himself to turn away.

            Chancing a touch as last, Bakari lifted a hand to Stevanos’ face, trailing reverent fingers over his cheek, along his jaw. He resisted the overwhelming urge to cup the nape of Stevanos neck, wanting no hint of biological coercion in this exchange that was more important than any other. Either his words, pouring out from his heart, would convince the man, or nothing would.

            “If you could only give me a chance to show you just what you mean to me, what we could be together, I would consider myself the most fortunate man to have ever lived,” Bakari breathed, every word a truth so deep it was carved into his bones.

            “But I will never force you to stay, Stevie. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. Your life is your own. All I want is the chance to share it.”

            Swaying infinitesimally into the touch, Stevanos’ lashes fell, hiding his expression. Bakari felt as though the world was frozen, breath held in this moment while the man he was certain should be his partner not only through this life, but into the next, considered.

            “Give me the chance to love you,” Bakari whispered, his own voice breaking, nothing of his all-powerful persona remaining. He was no Pharaoh, Stevanos no slave. Bakari was nothing more than a man pleading for the only thing that mattered.

            Throat working once more, Stevanos let out a trembling breath. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Now they are FINALLY on the same page. Bakari's campaign to win Stevanos will begin in earnest. And Stevanos will discover just what it is to be romanced by a Pharaoh. *happy sigh* Fluff full speed ahead!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! A special Valentine's Day present just for you - a new chapter! Here we see Bakari's romancing campaign underway, and just how effective it may or may not be ;) Enjoy!

“You are going to regret that.”

            “Is that a threat?” Stevanos demanded, the menace implied unmistakable to a man who had survived the harshest of lives, danger a constant presence.

            “Not a threat. Simply a fact.”

            A blindingly quick dart of a hand. An immediate groan of masculine pain. Which was a drowned out by Wanidah’s inappropriately smug noises of celebration.

            “Oh I’m sorry. That makes it, what? Three to nothing?” the tiny female grinned triumphantly. Stevanos shook his head regretfully.

            “I don’t think I want to play anymore.”

            “Aw come on! Best of seven?” she cajoled with a sweet little smile. The very same smile she had worn when she’d coaxed Stevanos into playing the game Senet. A simple enough game, she’d promised. And fun way to pass the time, she’d sworn. And apparently it was – for _her_.

            While Stevanos had picked up the rules of the game that involved throwing sticks and moving small tokens around a board quickly enough, he suspected she had failed to disclose some vital piece of information. Or perhaps she simply had the luck of the gods on her side. Whatever the case, her coaxing grin had morphed into an intensity more profound than he had seen on the faces of opponents in the gladiatorial ring. And she’d been every bit as blood thirsty, as though the game was indeed a game of life and death. When it came to Senet, Wanidah could not lose.

            “Thanks, but I think I’ve had my pride wounded enough for the day. Maybe tomorrow,” Stevanos replied dryly, sending her into gales of musical laughter. The sound made him smile despite himself, even as he found his gaze searching for Bakari. As it always seemed to these past few days. Unerringly, Stevanos found him in an instant, almost as though he was tuned to the other man’s presence. Almost as though the words that still chased around Stevanos’ head in a never ending circle which left him in an constant limbo between hope and disbelief, might actually be true. That they were meant to be.

            As though feeling Stevanos’ eyes upon him, Bakari looked up instantly, his expression warming. That look of adoration shifting so blatantly across those beautiful features made Stevanos shyly look away as a blush spread across his skin. It had been a week now of such looks, and he could hardly get used to it. But he’d come to almost expect it. To _need_ it.

            Since that night, when Bakari had touched his face, and with sweet words touched his heart, Stevanos had struggled to adjust. Not only to the concept of a life of freedom, after a lifetime of bondage, but to the nearly implausible idea that Bakari wanted _him_ , above all others, as his mate. It was incredible. Unbelievable. Improbable to such an extent that even as Stevanos found himself agreeing to stay, he could hardly register what Bakari was saying.

            Stevanos had been able to justify the decision to remain. After all, if his freedom was guaranteed, he had no reason to leave. Not when food, shelter, anything he could need was right here. The security was something Stevanos would be foolish to cast aside so easily. And if the time came when for any number of reasons he felt he could no longer linger – well an eternity of being gone could spare a moment to stay.

            Yet the truth was, there had been nothing practical about the decision. It had been instinctive emotion, pure and uncontrolled, that had prompted him to give in to the plea in Bakari’s eyes. _Okay_. Of his own volition, Stevanos stayed. Because Bakari had given him a _choice_. Over and over again, Bakari kept giving him choices. And more, Stevanos had _felt_ it. That connection Bakari had spoken of. It made no sense, and he could hardly believe that Bakari felt it too. But when Stevanos had no reason to leave, and every reason to stay, exercising the right to make that choice had been as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

            In the immediate wake of making such a life altering decision, Stevanos had felt more lost than ever. Bakari had pulled him close, enfolded him in an embrace as grounding as it was addictive. Breathing deep the scent of the other man, Stevanos had felt everything within him settle into a feeling of rightness so complete it was frightening. There had been no resistance in him when Bakari had gently coaxed him back to bed, pulled him close, and soothed him to sleep once more.

            Just as there had been no resistance when Stevanos woke to the feel of Bakari nuzzling into his neck. There had been no demand in the Pharaoh, Bakari simply radiating pleasure as he wallowed in Stevanos’ skin. Face pressing into Stevanos’ scent glands, little contented noises of pleasure rumbled through Bakari as he inhaled deeply. Waking slowly, it had taken Stevanos’ several sleep hazy moments to understand. Bakari was _marking_ himself in Stevanos scent. The Alpha was proudly wearing the scent of the Omega. The gesture made the hesitation in Stevanos’ heart cautiously lower a fraction more.

            That had been only the beginning, when Bakari had kept Stevanos near as much as his duties allowed. Near enough to touch, the brunet absently taking his hand, much to Clinthamun’s dry amusement, pressing absent kisses to the side of Stevanos’ head, much to Wanidah’s delight, cutting himself off mid-sentence to bury his face in Stevanos’ neck and breath deep, much to Nathifa’s exasperation. Stevanos had never felt so adored.

            When Bakari had declared he wanted to take Stevanos on a several day journey down the Nile, Stevanos could think of no reason to refuse. He didn’t want to refuse, when his heart beat faster at the way Bakari had expressed the desire to show Stevanos more of _their_ land. The idea of having truly found his place was as seductive as the way that perfectly sculpted mouth curved with eager enthusiasm, Bakari a boy eager to show off his toys to Stevanos in the hopes of impressing him.

            As Stevanos leaned against the railing of the river boat, this trip nothing like the last trip that had brought him here, he _had_ been impressed. By the beauty of the land, a lush paradise along the river’s edge, and captivating desert as far as the eye could see beyond. The cities that lined the Nile were equally as enchanting, and Bakari had given in with delight when Stevanos asked to stop at each one. Just as Bakari had given in with an eagerness that was almost heartbreaking to every single hesitant request Stevanos had gained the courage to make.

            It had taken almost more courage to ask for anything than it had taken to try and run away. Not only was Stevanos conditioned to expect nothing, and ask for less, a part of him worried that for all Bakari’s talk of a connection of souls, the Alpha would still see him as nothing but an Omega, inferior and without rights. Bakari’s reaction had been so dramatically to the contrary, it had left Stevanos dazed. Bakari was so genuinely excited by each and every request, no matter how small, that Stevanos had dared to start believing. Maybe this could be his home. Maybe Bakari could be his everything. Maybe…

            When Wanidah had heard of their upcoming journey, she’d been so excited about the incredible sights Stevanos would see, and demanded he tell her all about them upon his return. Which had made it worthwhile for Stevanos to make his largest request yet – to bring along the young Omega who had quickly become his very first friend. Bakari’s smiling agreement, and Wanidah’s bubbling gratefulness which had prompted her to throw her arms around Stevanos with infectious excitement, made Stevanos think that perhaps learning to ask for things wasn’t so hard after all.

            Though perhaps he should have left the viciously competitive Omega behind, Stevanos mused with a smile as she tried to tease and taunt him into another round on Senet. Only when he threatened to “accidentally” shove her overboard did she give in. Before setting her sights on Clinthamun, and began to harass the lounging Medjay into a match. Stevanos might have pitied the unsuspecting man when he easily gave in to the challenge, but then again, Stevanos _might_ be holding a grudge against the man who’d yanked him off the side of a building. Not that Stevanos was the grudge holding type, of _course_ he wasn’t, but as he watched Clinthamun cockily declare his prowess at Senet, Stevanos didn’t bother to clue him in to his imminent demise.

            Chuckling, Stevanos drifted to the edge of the boat, breathing deep the sweet scent of water that was the scent of life. Before an even more alluring aroma filled his lungs, and intoxicated his senses. “Noor aini,” Bakari murmured as he shifted in to press his body deliciously to Stevanos, his hands gripping the rail, arms bracketing the blond in the most wonderful and welcome of prisons.

            Nuzzling into Stevanos’ neck, Bakari made a humming noise of contentment, before pressing a kiss to the pulse that thundered there. He was seemingly oblivious to the small, breathy moan Stevanos let out, or the way the Roman trembled slightly as he leaned into the Egyptian’s muscular frame. “Happy?” Bakari questioned softly as he rested his chin on Stevanos’ shoulder, one hand sliding around to lay on Stevanos’ flexing abdomen, pulling him closer yet.

            It took Stevanos long moments to find his voice, throat tight at the feel of Bakari pressed so tightly against him. When he finally did, the reply was simple, and honest. “Happy,” Stevanos agreed, shyly placing his hand over Bakari’s on the rail, delighting in the way Bakari tangled their fingers together. As incredible as it seemed, he was happy. But he was also honestly entertaining the idea Bakari was simply murdering Stevanos slowly. Because Stevanos felt tortured. Deliciously, exquisitely tortured.

            Since the night he’d tried so unsuccessfully to run, which had resulted in them both emotionally stripping themselves down into a state of utter vulnerability, Bakari had lavished him in cuddles. Snuggled Stevanos to sleep every night. Kissed his pillow mussed hair each morning. Traced his lips over Stevanos’ neck until the blond thought he might simply burst into flame, an inferno that would be extinguished by nothing less than all the water of the Nile.

            And yet Bakari took things no further. He ignited a near constant heat within Stevanos, but never possessed Stevanos’ lips with his own. Never edged them any closer to the ecstasy Stevanos had gotten a taste of, and now desperately craved endlessly more. To think he’d gone his whole life without it, and now he felt he could barely function for want.

            Stevanos wasn’t sure what to make of Bakari’s reticence. He was certain it had nothing to do with reserve, when the Alpha made a point of going after what he wanted – Stevanos didn’t think the Pharaoh could live any other way. The numerous monuments and statues dedicated to Bakari and his triumphs which Stevanos had admired with wide eyes on their trip bore witness to the single minded, relentless personality of a Pharaoh who never failed.

            Eventually, Stevanos had wondered if perhaps after their one shared moment of passion, no matter Bakari’s talk of meant-to-be, the brunet no longer desired him. After all, Stevanos had no sexual experience, no extraordinary skill to entice and entrap, nothing to compete with an entire harem of gorgeous Omegas with no other desire than to fulfill Bakari’s every sexual need.

            However, as inexperienced as Stevanos may be, he was no stranger to the look of lust among men. One he knew suffused his own features more often than he’d like, the scent of Bakari alone enough to enflame him. A look he continued to catch on Bakari’s face, at any given moment. So Stevanos had to conclude the man still wanted him… yet the Alpha took things no further.

            Eventually he’d come to the shocking conclusion that perhaps it was intended for _Stevanos_ ’ own benefit. Wonder permeated through Stevanos anew, at just one more sign Bakari had meant every word he had said. That Stevanos was his own man, free to make his own choices, to lead his own life. And that Bakari simply wanted to share in it, forcing nothing upon him. Which had lead Stevanos to conclude further that the physical sensation of want he’d become so familiar with ever since first drawing Bakari into his lungs was no longer _all_ he felt.

            Instead there was a need that saturated him. A need to see Bakari smile, as the man managed to make Stevanos smile each day. A need to give back to the Pharaoh who persisted in showering a perplexed Stevanos in gifts, as though that might be the only way to win the Omega’s affection. And paramount, a need to trust Bakari in a way he’d trusted no other – trust Bakari to take him to the farthest reaches of ecstasy, and safely bring him back down.

            However, when Stevanos was still learning to become comfortable asking for smaller things, whether it be for a drink when he needed it, or to linger a bit longer in the brilliant art of a temple, asking for something so huge was still beyond his grasp. Yet as Bakari traced gentle fingers across his skin, lips pressing delicately to the pulse beating in his neck, Stevanos was awash with maybes. Maybe he could find the courage to ask for what he desired above all else.

            Or maybe, he’d forgo asking altogether, and simply demand it. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw yis. >:D I have a feeling Stevanos is going to get what he wants... and soon ;) 
> 
> Noor aini - The light of my eyes *romantic sigh*


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! Please enjoy this chapter, as Bakari and Stevanos continue their delightful travels together, seeing things I can only dream of seeing. *wistful sigh*

Bakari had experienced awe before. He’d felt it watching his father, Pharaoh before him, leading a nation into prosperity. He’d known it when he had been crowned Pharaoh himself, and felt the full weight, and the full power of his fate. He’d faced it when standing in the holy place of his ancestors, _Ipet-isut_ \- The Most Selected of Places. The Karnak Temple Complex was the greatest legacy of Bakari’s people, and the Pharaohs before him, starting with Senusret I. He had started the construction of the intricate maze of chapels, pylons and halls, which had only been built upon in the generations since.

            Bakari himself had commissioned the building of the Great Hall within the Temple at Karnak. Spanning nearly thirty five thousand cubits, the monument was comprised of sixteen rows, and one hundred thirty four massive columns. The workmanship was unparalleled, the skill of his craftsmen who had labored on the structure richly rewarded. Of the many monuments Bakari had constructed thus far, it was this he was most proud of.

            Walking through the completed hall for the first time, he had felt awe in spades, at what his command and his people’s work had wrought. It was both a fitting tribute to the Gods who had gifted him with command, and a legacy that would long outlive him. Bakari had thought no moment could triumph over that, seeing the proof of his reign carved into stone for all eternity. Bakari had been wrong.

            Turning in a slow circle, Stevanos face was a study in disbelief. As the sun had begun its ascent through the heavens that very morning, their boat had arrived at the city of Thebes. Stevanos had spared not a glance to the thriving capitol, sky blue gaze transfixed instead upon Karnak, visible on the East bank of the Nile.

            Excitement had been a fine vibration through Stevanos’ frame, and he’d nearly yanked a laughing Bakari from the boat, the ruler as pleased by the Omega’s enthusiasm as the way the blond had so casually taken Bakari’s hand in his own. As they traversed the wide road lined by countless sphynx statues that guarded the entrance to the holy site, Stevanos, who had been full of ceaseless questions the entire trip, showing a curiosity in Bakari’s nation that lit a warm contentment within him, was unusually silent.

            It was a silence that remained unbroken as Stevanos let go of Bakari’s hand in favor of drifting through the entrance, fingers reverently skimming along the giant pylons reaching up to scrape the sky. As small as Stevanos was large, and as chatting as he was silent, Wanidah fluttered by Stevanos’ side, her sweet voice filling the air.

            Bakari smiled indulgently as she reached up to pat Stevanos’ massive arm, pointing out carvings of interest as the party made its way into the complex, much as she had back at the palace itself. Perhaps he should have feel jealous seeing Stevanos developing the friendship with the exuberant young Omega, yet instead, he was inordinately pleased. Bakari was secretly relieved by any sign of Stevanos developing ties that kept him here. In Egypt, and with Bakari. Because yes, to Bakari’s eternal relief, Stevanos had agreed to stay. But Bakari didn’t rule an often tumultuous nation without understanding the fine art of things left unsaid. Bakari had only asked that Stevanos stay for now, even as he’d bit back pleas that the man remain forever. Now was all that Stevanos had agreed to.

            It was that very ephemeral nature of his agreement which had prompted Bakari to finance this trip. He was desperate to show his mate everything there was to love about this land, if Bakari alone was not enough – a worry that haunted him each night. Holding Stevanos in his arms, Bakari felt as though he were trying to clutch something as insubstantial as sand, capable of spilling through his grip no matter how tightly he held it. With each expression of delight on Stevanos’ face at each new city, hope and relief had grown within Bakari.

            Traversing the Nile with Stevanos, it was as though Bakari was seeing his land for the first time. They walked through each settlement, Stevanos point blank refusing a palanquin, the chair Bakari as Pharaoh was accustom to being carried on whenever traveling through his nation. To Nathifa’s rolled eyes, Clinthamun’s exasperation at the security risk it created, and Wanidah’s delight, her romantic heart fluttering, Bakari had elected to walk alongside his mate. Bakari had not been oblivious to the surprise upon his peoples’ faces as he moved through the land, yet he had not cared. All that had mattered was being with Stevanos, touching him frequently, stopping at each stall in the markets, and trying to cajole and threaten the man into accepting any number of gifts.

            For a man used to immeasurable wealth, it was a surprise, and an unwelcome one, to have a mate so resistant to be showered in gold or finery. Not because Bakari wished to be desired only for his riches – to the contrary, it brought him some measure of satisfaction to know whatever affection Stevanos might hold for him was in spite of it, rather than because of it. What truly burned a rage deep inside of Bakari, though he masked it well, was the sheer confusion and discomfort on Stevanos face at each new offering. The man clearly was not only unused to gifts of any kind, but seeming to feel as though he didn’t _deserve_ them. It was a notion Bakari would do everything within his power to dispel.

            So far, he’d managed to shout down Stevanos’ protest over the beautifully soft linen fabric, to be made into garbs worthy of his gorgeous Omega. Bakari had basically glared the Roman into submission over accepting the beautiful rings laden with precious gems. He’d nearly snarled when he’d shoved them – gently – onto Stevanos’ fingers, much to Stevanos’ chagrin, and the jeweler’s amused delight. No amount of convincing though had swayed his stubborn lover that a gold plated chariot was essential if Stevanos would continue to resist the luxury of the palanquin. Bakari had given in with little grace, but the ruler within understood that with many victories, there would be some defeats.

            The people they walked by, and the merchants they spoke with, all watched with ill-concealed glee at their mighty Pharaoh doting so adoringly on his mate. While royal matches could involve the heart, Pharaoh by rule were generally more circumspect. Bakari couldn’t care less. He adored his mate above all others, and it mattered not who knew it. What Bakari _did_ care about was the wonderful discovery that his very stubborn mate was much more inclined to accept gifts of food.

            It was a discovery Bakari had made when they’d walked through the streets of Cairo in the beginning of their journey. Bakari had been trying to draw Stevanos’ attention to the exotic birds in delicate cages, when he saw the blond man staring longingly at cakes positively drenched in honey. Instantly, Bakari had purchased the entire supply for his traveling company, Stevanos stammering in protest the entire time. Until the blond had taken his first sticky sweet bite of the treat. Then all Stevanos could do was moan with pleasure, a sound Bakari longed to hear again and again, no matter how inconvenient it made walking upright. After that, Stevanos hadn’t made the most token of protests when Bakari had purchased any and every delicacy he noticed the Roman’s eyes falling upon, the Alpha within him strutting at the opportunity to feed his Omega.

            It was an insight into Bakari’s mate, and what the man held valuable. Gold was immaterial, jewelry almost perplexing. But simple pleasures like food were enjoyed without remorse. It only made Bakari appreciate Stevanos more.

            The most delightful of discoveries though had come when Stevanos had watched an artist laboriously painting a delicate papyrus scroll. Stevanos had drawn a deep breath, turned to Bakari with hesitant eyes, and asked quietly if he could have some painting supplies. Within moments, Bakari was ready to send convoys to the farthest reaches of the land for all the paint in the nation, but Stevanos had frantically assured him a small set was more than enough.

            With his new paint set, fine brushes, and blank scrolls in hand, Stevanos had confessed that painting was something he’d enjoyed as a boy, and would like to pursue again. At the shy admission, Bakari had fallen for Stevanos all over again. Of course, a man who had been forced to spend his life destroying, at heart wanted nothing more to create.

            Enchanted, Bakari had observed Stevanos as he sat on the deck of the boat, with gradually more confident strokes painting scenes of the river and the settlements upon it, of Nathifa teasing Clinthamun, of Wanidah’s head thrown back in laughter. For once Stevanos didn’t blush at the scrutiny, too absorbed in the pictures he created, each more lifelike and stunning than the last, the technique worlds apart from the structured profiles that dominated Egyptian art.

            Several days after receiving the supplies, Stevanos nervously presented Bakari a beautiful painting of Bakari himself, the blond blushing over what he saw as the cheapness of the gift. Stevanos had explained hesitantly that he wanted to thank Bakari for the trip and hadn’t known what the get the Pharaoh that already had everything. Accepting the masterpiece with reverent hands, Bakari had felt true understanding deep within his being. They were not simply man and man, or even Alpha and Omega. If anything, Bakari was the slave, and would do anything and everything for this incredible creature all the rest of his days. No one had ever given him something so personal, and so priceless. There had been no shame in Bakari when with emotion choked voice, he’d promised Stevanos he would treasure it forever.

            “I think you’d show less reverence if Horus himself appeared right now, than you’re showing that mate of yours.” Blinking, Bakari turned to see Samir, the high priest and one of his closest friends, smirking knowingly at him. Clearly, Bakari had been staring sappily at Stevanos for longer than he thought, as they moved deeper into the interior of the temple complex. Laughing, Bakari didn’t even try to disagree.

            “Who am I to not admire perfection when it stands right before me?” he joked back, grinning at Samir’s amused snort.

            “Careful, talk like that and I might have to accuse you of blasphemy,” Samir teased.

            “Nonsense. I simply have the good taste to admire the gods’ good works,” Bakari blinked, sending the man into a roar of laughter that echoed against the stone walls. Despite the verbal jabs, Bakari knew Samir couldn’t have been more pleased by his choice of mates. Early in the trip, Stevanos had expressed wonder over the intricacy of the hieroglyphic written language. When Wanidah had explained that few people could read or write it, the knowledge largely held by the priests and scribes, Stevanos had approached Samir, asking haltingly if he might be willing to teach him. Samir had been down right delighted.

            It was a common theme, Bakari had realized. There didn’t seem to be a soul who didn’t like Stevanos. Even Nathifa had made her affection for the blond known, in typical Nathifa fashion – by threatening to disfigure Bakari if he dare ever treat his Omega poorly. But Bakari adored Stevanos most of all. And so he lingered by Stevanos’ side, keeping him quiet company as the hours of the day passed, Stevanos reverently walking through each expanse of the massive complex, intent to take it all in.

            Stevanos was not ignoring Bakari precisely. Instead, he was so absorbed by the majestic surroundings it seemed he could notice little else. He appeared immune to the heat of the sun, or the passing of time, until the stars began to appear in the heavens, the rest of the company having returned to their makeshift camp on the shore. At last Stevanos looked back at Bakari, gaze shaken as though the sight of the exquisite temple had shifted something deep inside of him. Bakari finally moved closer, taking Stevanos’ hand once more in his own.

            “Bakari, this is…” Stevanos shook his head when words failed him, gesturing his free hand to encompass it all. Bakari smiled.

            “I am so glad you enjoyed it. I would build you a hundred monuments like this, if you let me,” he promised recklessly, truthfully. Bakari knew Stevanos would never accept, but meant it all the same. At his words, Stevanos’ eyes widened, before his brows pulled together thoughtfully, as he stared down at their linked hands, then back up into Bakari’s sincere expression.

            “I really mean that much to you,” Stevanos breathed. Not a question, but rather it seemed, a realization. A deep understanding of what Bakari had always felt. Still, Bakari answered it.

            “Yes.” Yes, a thousand times over, yes, forever. Stevanos meant everything

            Stevanos lips parted, before he closed them, without saying a word. Instead, he leaned in. And took Bakari’s mouth with his own.

            Fire leapt instantly, heat burning a low simmer in Bakari’s veins and a scorching inferno where Stevanos touched him. With that hand, those achingly soft lips. It was heaven, after the torture of Bakari restraining himself these past many days. Bakari’s need for his mate had only grown after the bliss the men had shared, in the intimacy of their bath. But once he’d realized Stevanos had thought himself a possession at the time, Bakari had sworn to himself he would let Stevanos take the lead. So that not only would Bakari know his Omega was ready, Stevanos would know it too. For a Pharaoh used to instant compliance, the waiting had been immeasurably difficult. But worth it, because Bakari didn’t _want_ compliance. He wanted joyous participation.

            And oh, the way Stevanos’ lips moved against him, soft but certain, no hint of hesitation, Bakari felt a helpless passenger himself, swept away on the sensual tide of Stevanos. Tabban, his mate was perfect, the pleasure Stevanos induced so intense it might well be the death of him. But what a glorious way to go.

            Parting his lips readily at the demanding sweep of Stevanos’ tongue, Bakari groaned in bliss at the sensation of the man taking him apart so easily. Seemingly emboldened by the noise of approval, Stevanos gripped his hand tighter, before release it, in favor of wrapping his hand around the nape of Bakari’s neck. It was a grip of possession, of domination. It was a grip Bakari would have allowed no other. But in Stevanos’ hold, he simply melted.

            An eternity later, Stevanos pulled back, lips dragging along Bakari’s one last time before they finally parted. “Buck,” he whispered.

            Slowly Bakari lifted passion heavy lashes, stared into eyes now as dark as the night sky. “Stevie?”

            “Take me home.”

 _Home_. The palace. The house of Bakari, that Stevanos was now acknowledging as his own. Throat tight, Bakari let out a shuddering breath at the promise he heard in the command.

            “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww yes, Stevanos asking for what he wants! Something tells me, he's going to get it ;) 
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Tabban - fuck
> 
> The cubit was the principal unit of ancient Egyptian measurement. It was about 52.4 cm, approximately the length of a man's forearm.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! If you're the sort who enjoys musical recommendations, I firmly INSIST you give Rewrite The Stars from The Greatest Showman soundtrack a listen! While it doesn't fit this story, it is so pre-war Stucky it hurts, and I have been crying my eyes out to it for 48 hours now. Haha. Really though, give it a listen! And please enjoy the next chapter.

“I need your help.”

            Waking with a start, blinking owlishly in surprise, Wanidah yawned as she shoved her fingers through her hair. She slowly stretched widely, then blinked some more. “Wha?” she finally slurred.

            Perhaps Stevanos might have waited for a more reasonable hour. Like when the sun had actually started it’s ascent in the sky. But not only had the nervous energy thrumming through him bordered on frantic, impossible to contain, this was one conversation he’d rather not have anyone overhear. Particularly his early rising Alpha. Ergo – rising earlier. Much to Wanidah’s misfortune.

            Crouching next to the tiny Omega, who _had_ been sleeping peacefully on the deck of the barge as it made the journey towards home, Stevanos rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling bad for waking her. Feeling worse over what he intended to ask, for too many reasons to count. But feeling practically ill over the idea of just how terribly things could go if he didn’t get the help he sought… No, the horrible images that overwhelmed him at the thought were enough to overcome his embarrassment. Though only just.

            “Wanidah, we’re friends, right?” Stevanos _thought_ so. Would even have chanced betting so. But after a lifetime without…

            At that, sleepy incomprehension was replaced by a much more alert concern. Instantly, Wanidah reached out, hand upon his arm. There it was, that gesture of concern, and a complete lack of fear which had first led him to believe she was indeed a true friend.

            “Of course we are! Stevanos, what’s wrong?”

            Cursing the flush that rose in his skin, and praying that the darkness of the early morning hid it, Stevanos chanced a quick look around, verifying that everyone else was asleep, or too far away to hear his words. Even so, he spoke so low, she had to lean forward to hear over the sound of water lapping at the boat’s edges.

            “I, um. Well, I was thinking, I’m hoping… ah, I think Bakari and I are going to sleep together.” There. He’d said it. Considering his emotions having done so for a moment, hoping that find speaking the words wasn't nearly as bad as he'd feared, Stevanos sighed. Yep, that was every bit as embarrassing as he thought it would be.

            Brows furrowing in confusion, Wanidah began to pat his arm sympathetically. As though she feared he was the one still half asleep, and clearly confused. “Stevanos, darling, you _have_ been sleeping with Bakari. Like, every night.”

            Nope. Apparently it was even more embarrassing than he could have imagined. Groaning, face buried in his hands, Stevanos finally dropped them with another sigh. “No, I mean, _lay_ with him. You know… sex,” he finished on a whispered hiss.

            At which point, Wanidah’s eyes went wide, and her shrill squeal of delight split the air – loud enough to wake all the occupants of the barge, if not the entire population of Egypt, Stevanos was certain. Mortified, he tried to hush her, frantically looking around all the while.

            When she did finally clap her hands over her mouth, the blessed silence lasted only a moment before she dropped them to her lap and began whisper shouting with enough enthusiasm to make Stevanos question his judgement in discussing this with anyone, ever. Perhaps just rolling straight off the edge of the boat into the water would be the best course of action at this point. It certainly seemed the only way to permanently put out of the fire of embarrassment burning beneath his skin.

            “Stevanos, that’s wonderful! I’m so excited! How can I help? Teach you romantic songs to sing him? Do your makeup for you? I know you have resisted any makeup, but really, with your features, and those blue eyes, some liner would just look so striking-”

            Said eyes going wide, Stevanos frantically held up a hand at the verbal barrage. “No, definitely not,” he was quick to interject, watching with an almost reluctant amusement when she deflated with disappointment, eye makeup something Wanidah advocated with a passion. His continued intransigence on the subject was something that left her perpetually baffled.    

            “It’s just, well, I’ve never been with someone. Ever. And I know that you’ve, uh, lain with Bakari, and it’s just, I really want to make sure I do this right, and-”

            This time it was Wanidah who threw her hands up to halt the flood of words, shock taking over her features.

            “Wait, wait, wait. You think I’ve slept with Bakari?” she demanded.

            “You haven’t?” Stevanos demanded in equally baffled tones.

            “No! I mean, obviously I would have, being part of his harem and all. And he _is_ the Pharaoh, and have you seen that butt-” Stevanos couldn’t be sure precisely what expression his face wore, but whatever it was had Wanidah hastening to add, “Not the point! Anyways, no I haven’t. He felt too much brotherly affection for me, and as for myself, well, just being able to live at the Palace is more than enough to make me happy. But that’s not the important thing here.”

            Stevanos wasn’t so sure about that, his reaction to learning his one friend _hadn’t_ slept with Bakari, the man who claimed to be his mate, intensely visceral. He ought to have been disappointed, seeing as how he was swallowing all remnants of pride to ask for pointers specific to the Pharaoh. Pointers Wanidah couldn’t supply if she’d never lain with Bakari.

            Instead, all Stevanos felt was an overwhelming, nearly dizzying level of relief. To know that his closest friend had never felt the touch of Bakari’s hands upon her body, his lips upon her skin – it might be small of him, but that knowledge melted away the small, inescapable feelings of jealousy that had plagued him. Thank the gods.

            “The important thing is, you’ve _never_ been with anyone? Ever?” Wanidah demanded, the disbelief in her tone acute.

            “Wait, you haven’t been with Bakari, but you _have_ been with someone else?” Stevanos retorted, equally shocked. How many twists this conversation could hold, he couldn’t imagine.

            Raking her fingers through her hair once more, this time in an obvious attempt to center herself, Wanidah shook her head. Not in denial, but in incredulity.

            “Sohqan, I’d heard you foreigners had strange hang ups about sex, but I never imagined anyone of mating age could still be a virgin.” Catching sight of Stevanos’ face, which was somewhere between defiant embarrassment and confusion, she quickly waved her own words away.

            “Stevanos, sharing physical intimacy is a gift given freely here. One without any negative association. Just as Alphas have their ruts, Omegas have their heats. Everyone has completely natural needs, and to not give in to them is honestly unimaginable. How have you never-” Wanidah trailed off, her large eyes suddenly going soft, clearly making the connection that his current status might not have been by choice.

            Despite his intention to keep the horrific memories of his past, and the humiliation of it to himself for all eternity, Stevanos felt himself leaning into the gentle hand she placed on his shoulder, giving in to the unspoken offer of comfort. She _was_ his friend. She could be trusted with his truths.

            “When they imprisoned me, I was still young. Hadn’t yet reached maturity. Once I had, I discovered that they refused to allow Omegas any assistance with their heats. In part because if they managed to sell off an Omega later, they were worth more ‘unspoiled’.” Oblivious to her flinch at the word and the ugly picture of degradation he painted, Stevanos continued. “But mostly, because they thought that Omegas were simply bodies to be fucked, and our heats ‘proved’ it. By denying us any help, it was just another form of torture. One they thought would make for more dramatic fights in the arena, Omegas crazed for relief they could not provide themselves.”

            Seeing the dampness gathering in Wanidah’s eyes, her sympathy unmistakable, Stevanos uncomfortably looked away, staring at the edge of the sky, where the first hint of color began to seep in the dark. The gorgeous water and land the sun illuminated were a tangible reminder that he was a world away from the darkness that had so long been his life. It wasn’t until her hand took his, fingers tangling with his own that he chanced looking back at Wanidah, and saw the fire that now burned in her gaze. Small though she was, Stevanos suddenly recognized a strength in her that would make her a fierce opponent both in the arena and beyond.

            “Stevanos, I’m so glad you’re here. That you are the one who was destined to become the almuluk alzawj aleazim. And while I haven’t slept with him, I know Alphas. I promise, I will tell you precisely how to drive your Pharaoh simply mad.”

            Seeing the wicked grin that curved her lips, the frankly devilish gleam in her eyes, Stevanos thought he ought to have been concerned. Probably. But instead, he returned the grip on her hand, gave it a warm squeeze.

            “Tell me.” Stevanos was ready. Ready to give himself to the man he could no longer deny he’d fallen in love with. He would take no chance of his own inexperience ruining the most important decision he’d ever made. Stevanos had decided on Bakari. And he was damn ready to take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw yissss. Stevanos will be coming prepared - Bakari won't know what hit him ;) Up next... all the loving, steamy, filthy smut your heart could desire!
> 
> Sohqan - fuck  
> Almuluk alzawj aleazim - Kings great husband


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! As you may see, this fic finally has a chapter count, and yes, the next chapter is the last. I've spend the last week writing one MEGA chapter, before deciding to chop it in half for better flow. As that is the case, I'll be posting the first half, Chapter 16, now, and the second half, the final chapter, in an hour or two. Enjoy!!

Impatience was a drum beat thrumming through his veins, a chant, every instinct within him urging and demanding that Bakari find and claim what was _his_. Stevanos, who was not his possession, but rather his _everything_. Take him, keep him, bite him and bond him, the seductive voices whispered, and it was an almighty struggle to keep from doing just that.

            The traveling party had returned home that afternoon, and as much as it had pained him, royal business had pulled Bakari away. Frustrating, but unavoidable, when being Pharaoh was not simply a position, but the very core of his being. Bakari could no more ignore his duties than he could ignore the need to breath. Yet for the first time, it had been a struggle to concentrate on the religious obligations Samir had placed before him, a battle to give the most recent political fluctuations T’Challa reported on his full attention. All because of the man he adored above all others.

            Upon arriving at the palace, before they had parted, Stevanos had tugged Bakari into a lingering kiss, one that tasted of promise. When at last they parted, both breathing harshly, hearts beating out the same rhythm, Bakari had stared into those eyes where he saw his forever. For the first time, seeing the unguarded emotion in Stevanos’ expression, Bakari dared to hope Stevanos was feeling the same sense of utter rightness.

            At last though, Bakari had finished the business of the day, and even Nathifa had not teased him for his eagerness. Instead she’d simply stayed his motion for a moment with a hand upon his face, her lovely features unusually serious. “Be happy, shaqiq,” she said. Touched, he covered her hand with his own, leaned into the gentleness of a hand that could so easily maim or kill. Bakari valued the affection the gentleness denoted.

            “Thank you, 'ukht.” He didn’t bother wondering how she sensed of importance of this night. A life of growing up with Nathifa taught Bakari not to question how she knew anything. If _he_ knew anything, it was that Nathifa knew all.

            Leaving him with one last smile, Nathifa melted away into the night, off to her own devices. Then there was nothing in Bakari’s way.

            Striding through the halls of his palace, Bakari barely even saw his surroundings, so intent was he upon his destination. And yet, with each step, he was filled with both memories past and future dreams, of Stevanos in his home. Of the times they had already shared, and the life they could still spend together. It was something he desired beyond else. Tonight he would impress upon his mate, upon the man who was his very _heart_ – because that’s surely what Stevanos was, the living vessel of Bakari’s entire life, the force that defined his existence – that he wanted Stevanos here forever.

            One lifetime could never be enough. Bakari would do everything in his nearly unlimited power to secure such a promise from Stevanos. Not through force, because a promise given by force was nothing more than a travesty. But by offering Stevanos everything that he was, and praying to all the gods that it just might be enough.

            It wasn’t until Bakari had nearly reached the doors to his wing of rooms that his pace slowed, nearly stumbled, the strength stolen from him at the scent that practically flooded the air. Stevanos… sohqan. The sweetness and sharpness of Stevanos’ utterly unique aroma, mouthwatering fruit and soul quenching water, was magnified a thousand times over. All of it overlaid by an intoxicating layer that permeated every cell of Bakari’s being. Making thought irrelevant. Nothing but instinct and want and need, the Alpha within him roaring to life. Stevanos was in heat. His Omega’s scent was calling to him. Nothing could prevent Bakari from answering that call.

            Before he could following that irresistible siren’s song though, Bakari whirled when he caught the unacceptable scent of another Alpha near _his_ Omega. Unbonded, the proximity was unacceptable, calling Bakari’s hold into question. Remove the threat, destroy all competition, his instincts growled. Bakari was only pulled back to the edges of rational thought when he realized he was _growling_ at Clinthamun who stood loyally at his post.

            The man’s expression made it clear he’d tasted the lush sweetness of Stevanos’ heat staining the air, yet Clinthamun’s bearing was as militant as ever. Unwavering and unquestionable. Swearing, Bakari reined in the beast within him in, utilizing every last bit of control that made him a formidable leader and an unforgiving warrior.

            “Clinthamun-” Bakari began, the animal inside turning his voice rough, almost undecipherable, yet before he could begin to apologize, the sandy haired man shook his head.

            “The Medjay will patrol from a distance. No disturbance will reach you. Your Omega will be protected.” The words were formal, an acknowledgement of Bakari’s claim, bond or no, and it settled him more than anything else could have. Yet when Clinthamun smiled wryly, it was not his most trusted guard looking at him, but rather his closest friend. “You’re a lucky man. Take care of him.” With that, he marched down the hall, off to secure the perimeter at a distance that would not enrage Bakari with the competing scent of another Alpha.

            Drawing a deep breath, the lush, complex, and heady scent of his mate filling his being, Bakari was confronted with the truth of Clinthamun’s words. He was the luckiest man alive. Were he lowliest of servants, with Stevanos by his side, he would still feel the same. Stevanos gave him the meaning and joy he’d never realized so acutely his life was missing. Senses rolling in the perfection of Stevanos’ scent, Bakari gathered himself, before pushing open the door. Then stunned, he let it fall shut behind him.

            The chamber was lit with the flickering light of countless lamps, the normally unscented liquid replaced with perfumed oil that only enhanced the scent of Stevanos, which saturated every bit of the room. Wine, fruits, sweet cakes and cold water sat on the side table, while the bed had the blankets and sheets drawn back, an enticing invitation Bakari didn’t even notice. All he could see was Stevanos.

            The Roman knelt on the floor, his knees cushioned by the softness of a plush pillow. Skin glistened in the shimmering light, acres of golden perfection exposed, as the man was wearing nothing more than soft fabric draped around his slender waist. The very fabric Bakari had bought him on their trip, he noted with possessive pleasure. More, the wrist cuffs Bakari had so lovingly chosen encircled those powerful wrists, highlighting the strength in that frame, muscles flexing and bulging gorgeously. The power within the Omega only made the submissive nature of the pose all the more seductive.

            Head bowed, Stevanos remained still despite the unmistakable sounds of Bakari entering the room, with the exception of a fine vibration that trembled through his body. Even as Bakari was almost frantically scenting the air for the acrid taste of nerves, or worse, fear, all he smelled was heat, and beneath the biological imperative, _want_ , honest and real. Then Stevanos finally lifted his head, and Bakari felt knocked out all over again.

            Those eyes, which had consumed him from the start, were no longer the sky of the day, blue and endless. Instead they were heavens at night, black, pupils blown wide, need swamping that gaze. A need Bakari prayed was for him exclusively. But… but he had to be sure.

            “Alpha,” Stevanos spoke, breaking the silence, and oh tabban, the heat had woven itself in that voice, the notes deepened, yet somehow breathy and enticing. It pulled Bakari further under the golden man’s spell, and it was an enchantment he never wished to be free of.  

            “Omega,” Bakari replied, instinctively, helplessly. For he was helpless to the whims of this one man. Would burn down the world at a single word from his lover, if Stevanos demanded it.

            Nearly groaning as a renewed cascade of scent pouring off Stevanos in response to Bakari’s voice, arousal and mouthwatering slick, Bakari was powerless to stop his forward movement. Walking until he stood before Stevanos, Bakari promptly fell to his own knees. He never wished to be above this man.

            Dampening already bite reddened lips, Stevanos let out a shaky breath before he continued. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

            “So have I.” By the gods, Bakari had. His whole life. Waiting for this moment here and now.

            “I’m ready now,” Stevanos continued. Those eyes locked on Bakari, making him feel most unusually as though he were the prey, Stevanos the hunter who had him in his sights.

            “Ready?” Bakari echoed almost hoarsely, every fraction of control restraining him from simply _taking_ everything instincts and biology insisted Stevanos was offering. But offering, particularly if prompted by nothing more than the almost vicious demands the heat would make upon Stevanos, was not enough for Bakari.

            He would not use even the nearly irresistible pull of the physical response of Omega to Alpha to coerce Stevanos into something the blond might later regret. Bakari would sooner burn himself to ash, ensuring no chance of a life beyond this one. Because an eternity of knowing he’d taken what wasn’t joyously given, but instead was simply reluctantly offered, would be more than he could bear.

            “I’m ready to learn everything you wish to teach me.” Fuck, the sweet innocence of the statement lit a perverse pleasure in Bakari. Some reprehensible part inside of him was selfishly pleased no one had ever done to Stevanos all the deliciously carnal things Bakari wished to do. But he _couldn’t_ , when that very innocence might be the impetus for the temptation Stevanos offered.

            Midway through the evening, Wanidah had managed to corner Bakari for the briefest of moments, the intensity on her fine expressions unusual. That surprise had paled in comparison to what she said. “I’m not sure what all of his past Stevanos has told you. Likely more than he’s told me. But you need to be gentle with him, Pharaoh. His lack of experience-” she’d trailed off, eyes troubled, before they hardened with clear promise of reprisal should he not take her seriously.

            “He deserves the best. You will give it to him.” It was an order, not even dressed as a request. Something no one made of him. Rather than dismayed or outraged by the Omega’s audacity, Bakari had been deeply pleased that Stevanos had made a friend fierce enough to take on a Pharaoh.

            Still though, Bakari remembered her words now, as well as the things Stevanos had told him, and more importantly, the things he hadn’t. Stevanos was clearly a stranger to any kind touch, particularly the type so desperately needed during heats. The cruelty of the Romans legendary, it was all too likely they had denied Stevanos the use of the various tools, like herbal remedies to take off the worst edge of the heat, or false knots used by Omegas who could not or chose not to find relief in an Alpha. More likely than not, Stevanos didn’t even know such things existed.

            So as much as it pained him, both physically, his body throbbing in unrelenting need, and emotionally, when all he wanted was to connect with Stevanos on the most intimate level, Bakari would not deny him these options.

            “Listen, Stevanos… You don’t have to do this with me. We have things to help you through the heat. You don’t need to suffer. And you don’t need to be with me, if … if that’s not what you want. Whatever you want, it is yours Stevanos, I promise you. Just tell me how to help you through this.”

            A stumbling speech from a man known for his eloquence. Yet it was the best Bakari could do, when the instincts inside of him were both clawing at him to claim what was him, and demanding he cause no hurt to his Omega, the dueling impulses nearly tearing him apart. But Stevanos didn’t need to know the agony it caused him. Because nothing mattered more than Stevanos. Nothing else ever would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Where is the smut! I was promised smut!" I can hear the angry cries now... Do not fear my dear readers, all the smut has been written, and shall be delivered to you in a matter of hours :D Until then... I love nice comments!
> 
> Shaqiq - brother  
> 'Ukht - sister  
> Sohqan/Tabban - fuck


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE - this is the second chapter posted today. If you have not read the first, please go back and read that first!!! Otherwise, please proceed, and enjoy at long last. ALL THE SMUT. >:D

Stevanos stared at Bakari in disbelief, stunned at the pained sincerity tightening Bakari’s features. Because the man was unquestionably in pain – the arousal pumping off of him in flooding waves nearly drowned Stevanos with the delicious taste of it. Yet Bakari was reigning it in, because he wanted to be certain this is what _Stevanos_ wanted. Despite the preparations Stevanos had taken, despite using every one of Wanidah’s tips to present himself in the most submissive of ways that would surely entice Bakari’s Alpha nature, the man was still holding himself back. Because he still was unsure of Stevanos’ consent. Stevanos, who had felt the first stirrings of his heat, and with his decision made that night in the temple, had known precisely where and how he wanted to spend it. And with who.

            In that blinding instant of realization, the last brick in the wall around Stevanos’ heart crumbled into dust. The world that had taught him to protect himself from everyone, Alphas most of all, became completely irrelevant in this time and this room, where nothing else existed. Bakari was perfection, his restraint in this moment when Stevanos himself was ready to prostrate himself at the Pharaoh’s feet if it would earn him relief, the final nail in the coffin around the life Stevanos had lived before.

            There was no more fear. He was the mate, by the gods, the _mate_ of this incredible man. And he would make sure Bakari understood it, in no uncertain terms.

            “Bite me.”

            The gasp torn from Bakari’s lips sounded as though a blade had been slipped between his ribs. Sudden and shocked. Deciding he rather liked the look of stunned awe on the man’s face, Stevanos’ lips curved ever so slightly as he continued. “Knot me. Bond me. Make me yours Alpha. Habibi.”

            At the last word, the one Wanidah had taught Stevanos which the blond had held close in his heart, Bakari fractured. Hand around the back of Stevanos’ neck, mouth descending upon Stevanos’ parted lips, tongue plundering inside them with a wild joy that Stevanos returned with reckless abandon, all restraint was gone. Habibi – my love. Bakari _was_ , Stevanos’ beloved. Bakari was everything. Stevanos would give the man everything, and beg for it all in return. Every delicious thing Bakari would do to him.

            “Please, Bakari,” he groaned against that mouth, as those wicked lips turned the fire of the heat already raging within him into a blinding inferno, need a living creature devouring him. Stevanos had never known it could be like this. His heat had always been a creation of pure pain, when relief was impossible. But at the first scent of Alpha, _his_ Alpha, the pain had made way for pleasure that curled deep inside of him. Despite what anyone might think, it was not any Alpha that would do. Stevanos had scented Clinthamun at the door, and the other Medjay beyond, yet none of them called to him the way his Buck did.

            That first curling of pleasure had been unsettling in the most wondrous of ways, but it could not begin to compare to the sheer wave of bliss that burned through him at the touch of Bakari’s hands upon his skin, his soft mouth which now nipped and licked at Stevanos’ scent glands. The Alpha coaxed more of Stevanos’ heat intensified scent to spill into the air. Bakari was marking himself in it, and if there were anything more intensely erotic than that, Stevanos could not imagine.

            Shuddering, Stevanos swayed tighter into the strength of Bakari’s heavily muscled frame, dazed and delighted to learn when Bakari’s grip grew almost bruising as it imprisoned him, that this was a captivity he could crave. Stevanos he needed more. Wrappings his arms around Bakari’s neck, his hips helplessly thrusted, seeking desperately needed friction. Stevanos gasped when the Alpha grasped him beneath his thighs, prompting Stevanos to wrap them around Bakari’s waist, and then in a shocking display of strength the Alpha stood straight up, lifting Stevanos with him.

            “You deserve better than the floor,” Bakari growled as he lavished more licks and bites on the other side of Stevanos’ neck, before setting him with exquisite gentleness on the bed, as though Stevanos were the most precious of objects. It was overwhelming, the gesture of care so intense it left tears pricking at Stevanos’ eyes. Yet he impatiently blinked them away, having no time for such things when he needed the weight of Bakari on him more than he needed his next breath.

            A gorgeous smile, both adoring and sinful curved Bakari’s perfectly sculpted lips when Stevanos used the strength of his legs to drag the brunet down with him, refusing to let even an hint of space come between them. “Don’t worry, shamsi, I’m going to take such good care of you.” Distantly, Stevanos became aware of a high, keening noise filling the room, only slowly realized with his lust hazed mind it was coming from himself. When he tried to bite back the helpless sounds, Bakari tsked softly, pausing in the kisses he’d been pressing across Stevanos’ collarbone to drag his lips over Stevanos’. “Come, my perfect Omega, let me hear the pretty noises you make for me.”  

            At the sinful enticement accompanied by a filthy roll of Bakari’s hips which dragged the length of their erections against one another, holding back was no longer an option, the resulting shout punched from Stevanos’ lungs. Grin turning wicked, Bakari clearly took that for the encouragement it very much was, and set a perfectly rough pace, grinding against Stevanos, encouraging him to let go all the while.

            “Just like that baby. Going to watch you unravel, take the edge off, so then I can take my time with you. Getting you off as many times as you can. Take care of you the way you deserve, my beautiful mate.”

            It was almost too much, the friction incredible and overwhelming. When Bakari held himself up with one powerful arm, the visual display of muscle shifting beneath flawless skin only heightened the pleasure swamping through Stevanos, who instinctively turned his head and nuzzled at the wrist braced next to him, needing every possible point of contact. Adoring the weight of the man on top of him, the sensation evoked feelings of utter safety, rather than the memories of helplessness and horror, like he’d feared being so utterly pinned might do.

            It was just one more re-wiring of a mind trained to see being dominated as a travesty, and all Alphas as the epitome of cruelty. Bakari was like no other, and to be held down by him was the height of ecstasy. To find a man strong enough to match him, yet kind enough to never use that strength against him… Had Stevanos ever stood a chance? Or were some things truly fated?

            When Bakari used his free hand to unravel the fabric draped over his own waist, and then Stevanos’, abruptly leaving them pressed skin to skin, Stevanos was suddenly too far gone to spare thought for musings of destiny. Instead, too much sensation had suddenly transformed into not enough, and he almost sobbed when Bakari slowed the roll of his hips, each drag of their cocks against one another excruciating and incredible. “Buck, Buck, Buck,” Stevanos panted mindlessly, tears now streaming from beneath clenched eyes as he rutted up against the Alpha, balancing on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain, needing _something_ to push him over.

            Lowering the rest of his heated weight onto Stevanos, Bakari slid his hands up the expanses of Stevanos arms, pausing for an electric moment to hold Stevanos’ wrists in an erotic prison, before gliding his palms further until their hands clasped each other, fingers tangled tight. “I love you Stevie,” Bakari whispered, his lips brushing over Stevanos’ trembling mouth. With that, Stevanos fractured, ecstasy washing everything in white as he came, cock jerking almost painfully.

            Stevanos shuddered through the nearly never ending bliss of it, aftershocks trembling through his entire being for endless moments, finally subsiding into tiny tremors when the height of it passed. Blearily he blinked up at Bakari who was staring down at him with such an expression of awe, it was as though Stevanos had done something incredible, like hand place every star in the sky.

            “Noor aini, you’re amazing,” Bakari breathed, as he lazily slid his still mouthwateringly hard erection through the mess coating their abdomens, Stevanos gasping at the sensation against his overly sensitive, yet still hard cock. All in an instant he was aware of a clenching emptiness inside of him, begging to be filled as slick practically poured from him. Already his body was pleading for more, and nothing but his Alpha’s knot would do. Yet his beautiful, and currently maddening Alpha, seemed in no great hurry. Clearly, it was up to Stevanos to move this along, and take precisely what he wanted.

            It was Bakari’s turn to gasp when in a move lightning fast, and impressive in its strength and agility, Stevanos had him flipped onto his back. The Omega’s strong thighs now bracketed his hips as Stevanos straddled him. “Now,” Stevanos demanded, hands bracing against the solid muscle of Bakari’s chest. “Fuck me now.”

 

 

As Pharaoh, Bakari had received countless challenges in his life, yet none had ever affected him as much as those sinful words that fell from those plush lips, somewhere between a demand and a dare, the previous shyness of his gorgeous Omega long since burned away. Everything within him rose to meet that provocation, yet rather than thrusting up into that liquid heat that even now brushed over his cock in the most obscene of enticements, Bakari used a maneuver he’d used more than once in his combat career.

            It put a gasping Stevanos on his front, Bakari blanketing the length of his body. Oh, Bakari had no intention of torturing his mate, whose stunned noise turned into gorgeous moans when Bakari let his dick slide along the bitable curves of the blond’s beautiful ass. But he would give Stevanos what he needed in the way of a true Alpha, using every ounce of dominance, skill and patience his designation had gifted him to slowly and thoroughly drive Stevanos wild with pleasure.

            “Have to take my time baby. Make sure you’re ready. Can’t risk hurting you,” Bakari purred, delighted by the violent tremor that ran through the man lying beneath him as he licked at the vulnerable curve of that neck that he took such enjoyment from nuzzling at. Lapping at the spot that would come to permanently bare his mark – the visible display of who precisely held his heart. _Before the night is through_ , Bakari promised himself when the urge to bite and bond nearly over took him. First things first.

            “Bakari, I’m ready,” Stevanos panted, the desperation in his voice palpable, hands gripping the curved wood of the headboard, the better to brace himself and arch back into Bakari’s body the best he could, despite being pinned immovably in place.

            “Hmm, I think I better check, and taste for myself,” Bakari rumbled in reply, noting with a smirk the tension that firmed the stunning muscles of Stevanos back when the blond suddenly seemed to understand his meaning.

            Before Stevanos could get out more than a doubtful “Wha-” his words turned into meaningless vowels as he shouted, jerking violently. Bakari kept him easily in place, hands holding the plush curves of his ass apart, exposing the clenching, slick coated hole as Bakari made good on his promise. Lapping at Stevanos, Bakari groaned at the amazing taste, one he’d been dying to discover since their bath together.

            “Tabban,” he gritted out, the vibrations of his voice against Stevanos’ sensitive rim making the other man tremble all the harder, before Bakari dove back in. Nipping gently and sucking strongly at the silky soft skin, wallowing in the honey sweet scent and taste of the slick that poured so prolifically, Bakari finally breached the ring of muscle, licking deep inside.

            Clenching around the intrusion, Stevanos exploded once more, but Bakari gave him no time to recover, only pushing the man higher yet as he continued to fuck his tongue into him faithfully, and slid first one, then two fingers deep.

            “Buck,” Stevanos sobbed, entire body threatening to simply shake apart as he was spiraled mercilessly towards another release. What strength he could gather was used to shove back against Bakari’s face, Bakari’s hand, clearly needing more, endlessly more. And oh, Bakari would give it all.

            “Stevie, you open up so good for me. Taking my fingers like you were _made_ for it,” Bakari prattled mindlessly as he licked the intoxicating taste of Stevanos’ slick from his lips, watching with unceasing fascination as Stevanos’ sweet little pink hole stretched so readily around his stroking fingers, three now thrusting in and out. The wet noises filling the room competed with Stevanos’ whimpering and moaning, creating the most incredible symphony Bakari could ever imagine.

            Pride surging in him at how beautifully his Omega was falling apart, Bakari beamed with satisfaction when he curled his fingers just right, stroking over the bundle of nerves inside his mate, and heard the wood of the bed crack, the headboard breaking clean in two under the power of Stevanos’ grip. As far as commendations over his own performance of taking care of his Omega went, Bakari couldn’t think of a better one. Until Stevanos came again, groaning, hips writhing as the sizable puddle of pearlescent fluid grew larger yet, and no, _that_ was the best review Bakari could hope for.

            Moaning himself at the way Stevanos body clamped down around his fingers in a desperate imitation of how it would milk the knot of his cock, Bakari felt his self-control fraying. He needed to be inside his lover at long last, more than he needed his next breath. To feel the intimacy of the connection that would take them from two stars drifting through the heavens into a colliding explosion brighter than the sun. Bakari shifted up the bed, hovering over Stevanos once more, who was limply laying still now, head turned to the side on the pillow, tears of overstimulation trailing over skin flushed gorgeously from heat and lust. Gently kissing away the salt and water, Bakari trailed his mouth to Stevanos’ parted lips, was gratified when even wrung out from release upon release, Stevanos weakly kissed him back.

            “Shamsi, I love you so much. Are you ready for me?” Bakari questioned, feeling his adoration grow a shade sharper and more sweetly painful when despite his obvious exhaustion, Stevanos let out a little whimpering moan, and pushed back on Bakari’s gently stretching fingers once more.

            “Yes,” Stevanos moaned, his gorgeous voice gone breathy and rough. Tabban, that was all the encouragement Bakari needed. Pulling his fingers free from the lush heat of Stevanos' body, adoring his mate even more for the soft little noise of loss he made, Bakari angled his hips until the steadily leaking head of his cock was nudging against Stevanos’ rim. Hooking his hands over Stevanos’ shoulders, holding the other man tight until there was room for nothing but love between them, Bakari pressed his lips to the sweat slick expanse of Stevanos’ neck.

            “Habibi,” he whispered, the word holding all of the reverence of a prayer. Before he pushed forward, one long, gliding thrust until he was seated fully inside his Omega. This time he could no longer be certain the trembling he felt vibrating through their bodies so perfectly connected was simply from Stevanos alone.

            It was as though all the gods in the sky and on the earth had poured their illumination into Bakari, for surely _this_ was the divine purpose of life, his true destiny, to give his everything to the man he held tight. Never had Bakari known such ecstasy, never dared imagine it could exist. Heat and slick tightness surrounded him, the scent of paradise intoxicated him, while Stevanos’ heavily muscled body undulated beneath him, trying to work himself back on Bakari’s throbbing cock buried deep inside him. At which point Bakari’s control was no longer frayed – it broke entirely.

            Hips snapping sharply, Bakari held Stevanos helpless to the power of his thrusts. Stevanos wailing in rapture over being _at last_ filled and fucked the way his body demanded. An Alpha in his prime, an exceptional Omega, they were a perfect match, Stevanos’ body coaxing and commanding more from Bakari, who fucked into him all the harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the filthy wet noises of the slick that eased the glide, the rumbling growl building in Bakari’s chest – it was an orchestra of pure instinct. Two souls connecting on a physical plane.

            “Buck!” Stevanos shouted mindlessly, as he erupted from one orgasm to the next, until the pleasure seemed to be unending, cock steadily leaking more than either man had known was possible. Still Bakari continued the unrelenting thrusts, teeth gritting as he felt the pressure building within his cock, the first indication of his knot. Instantly he knew, he needed to _see_ Stevanos, to stare into those eyes that were his own heaven, when his knot locked them irrevocably together.

            Pulling out entirely, Bakari had flipped the blond onto his back and thrust back inside the welcome of that body nearly before Stevanos could even register the move. Stevanos’ eyes had barely widened in surprise before they were fluttering in unguarded bliss as the knot expanded, Bakari working it past Stevanos rim until it was buried deep inside the Omega. At last, tying them together.

            Groaning as Stevanos’ body rippled and squeezed the thick bulge in his cock, Bakari finally slowed the nearly frenzied thrusts. He rolled his hips in a lazy dance, the knot preventing him from pulling out, so he instead rubbed it against Stevanos prostate, ruthlessly stimulating the bundle of nerves, sending electric shocks through Stevanos’ entire being. And he stared into Stevanos’ eyes all the while.

            Managing to find the strength to lift his arms, Stevanos threaded his fingers through Bakari’s sweat dampened hair, tugging until Bakari leaned in, their mouths meeting in a kiss that was a mirror of their bodies coming together, every bit as deep and slow and wet. Pulling away at last, Stevanos whimpered, his voice completely fucked out, “Alpha. Bond me.”

            Helpless to deny his Omega anything, Bakari brushed those trembling lips one last time, before trailing his mouth across that gorgeous jaw line, down the expanse of that vulnerable throat, deliberately licking over the sensitive juncture where neck met shoulder. Shuddering when Stevanos’ fingers in his hair tightened deliciously just short of pain, Bakari scraped his teeth over the silk soft skin, before biting down, teeth sinking deep. And the world exploded.

            Stevanos’ mouth parted in a silent scream, agony and ecstasy a masterpiece on his face, body jerking violently as he came dry, cock jerking where it was caught between them. Bakari, who had held on through the temptation Stevanos had presented on his knees, through the glory of Stevanos’ first orgasm and each subsequent one after , through the sheer heaven of tasting his mate’s unique flavor, through feeling the Omega clenching down on his fingers and tongue, at last shattered.

            Bakari’s cock throbbed, knot pulsed, come spurting hot and pouring deep inside the Omega’s body. His hips helplessly surged through the glorious mess they’d made, unable to stop. Fucking through the slippery mixture of slick and his own release, Bakari let out a muffled cry at the painful rapture that was Stevanos’ body instinctively milking every drop.

            Through it all Bakari’s bite instinctively locked them together every bit as strongly as the knot did, until he at last his jaw relaxed, and he licked soothingly at the wound. Pulling back just far enough to take in the mark that stood livid against Stevanos’ golden skin, a soul deep satisfaction swelled within him, knowing that nothing could part them now. Even better than that was the fact he could _feel_ Stevanos within him, as surely as if Stevanos was buried inside of Bakari instead of the other way around.

            Bakari could feel the sharp shock and wonder the Omega experienced over the bond. The edges of the temporarily sated heat which was unlike anything Stevanos had ever known before. And the joyous disbelief that Bakari was _his_. It was a sentiment that filled Bakari’s heart so full it felt in danger of cracking, even as he shook his head at the foolishness of it. Of course Bakari was his – Bakari had belonged to him the moment Stevanos had knelt before a Pharaoh.

            “Omega,” Bakari spoke, reaching up a hand to brush back damp golden hair, and stare into those beautiful eyes.

            “Alpha,” Stevanos replied, both of them feeling the twin jolt of rightness over the titles which were no longer just acknowledgments of designation, but rather a statement of who they were to each other. A pair, never to be broken apart.

            “I love you,” Bakari spoke, knowing Stevanos must be feeling it as surely as Bakari could literally feel Stevanos’ own love for him, but needing to free to words none the less. As he surely would, countless times a day, every day until his time on earth came to an end.

            “’Ahbak,” Stevanos replied, smiling at the raw emotion that shifted over Bakari’s features, at the returned proclamation in Bakari’s home tongue. Moved beyond belief, Bakari shook his head when he felt the nuanced emotion in Stevanos. He had not learned this phrase simply for Bakari, but for himself. For this land he embraced as his home, for the culture he embraced as his own. The Roman Gladiator was a thing of the past. Stevanos was now the mate of the Pharaoh. He couldn’t wait for the rest of their life to being.

            Overcome all over again, at the bond which in this moment of intensity allowed him to truly feel what Stevanos felt, Bakari accepted it for the temporary gift it was. Soon, as the newness faded, their emotions and thoughts would once more be their own, private experiences unless they chose to share them. But _they_ , they would always be one. And Bakari couldn’t agree with Stevanos’ sentiment more. Their lives together started now, and with the assurance of a god made human, Bakari had full faith of just how incredible it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Habib alby - Love of my heart  
> Shamsi - My sun  
> Noor aini - The light of my eyes  
> Tabban - Fuck  
> 'Ahbak - I love you 
> 
> Ahhhh!!! We have reached the end! I hadn't expected this to be the last chapter, but as I was writing the end if it, it just felt right. *happy sigh* Thank you so much for joining me on this adventure, and for all the support and love given! It means the world to me. I've loved writing this, and I know I always say it (but I really do always mean it) maybe someday there could be a fabulous sequel! Until then, I leave you with this conversation that definitely takes place at some point in these adorable boys' future:
> 
> Stevanos: "Bakari, I find you so irresistible."  
> Bakari: "It's my Pharaohmones." XD XD XD
> 
> Happy comments make all the work worth while! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Happy comments make me happy!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover art for "Unchained" by LightningStriking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13948416) by [Lovesfic (me23)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/me23/pseuds/Lovesfic)




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